Tomorrow is graduation. Surprisingly, it's bittersweet for me. I never ever thought I would benefit from this program the way that I have but, I've found my happy again. I have motivation to get out of bed again (but napping will continue to be part of my regimen during the rest of the leave). I met with my team of doctors today and had a marital session. In each meeting I was told my progress was outstanding and there was a sparkle in my eyes which wasn't there on Monday.
Mostly, the workshops today made a strong impression on me..... They was all about assertiveness, specifically the assertive woman, which I never, ever thought I had a problem with but after today, I realize I never had my own voice. My bark is much worse than my bite--- My mom used to say that my dad was soft as a grape, hard on the outside yet soft on the inside. Today I realized it describes me too. The irony is, I always feel at times I am being too assertive but what I learned is I let people walk all over me. How? Through guilt. Allowing guilt to swallow me whole at times. I am my own worst enemy and take "justified" blame in some of the guilt. This last week has taught me so much about my relationships with so many people. To repeat what I've been saying, it's been eye opening. Aside from the family who knows, my friends have carried me through this week. I don't ever use real names and I'm not going to start, but it's those people who read on a regular basis (and literally send message asking why there hasn't been a blog entry---- sort of a funny form of hate mail) they know who they are.
Even though the professionals were helpful, I really couldn't have made it this far without my friends and my family. I don't know many husbands who would sit in a counseling session, to discuss a marriage that isn't falling apart but has a wife who is beyond fucked up. Although I've complained for months that I wasn't a priority, today I looked over at my husband and realized that he would fly to the moon and back for me to get better. At that moment, at that second, a spark reignited our emotional connection. I realized why we have been together for 7 years and why we are renewing our vows after 5 years of marriage. Of course, all these moments tied together inspired some retail therapy and sent me off to find the perfect dress for the vow renewal. Will it fit me in October? I don't know. I hope so but I hope it's because I've maintained this weight in a healthy way. One day at a time, one moment at a time, one bite at a time.
The texts, the phone calls, the emails, etc have all made what I thought was going to be a long week go by quickly. A week ago, very little made me laugh but now it seems like I can't stop smiling. Each friend in my life serves a purpose-- mostly the purpose is to entertain me but each one has a quality that keeps them around, in my inner circle-- some of whom have been there for decades. When I went into the program, I never intended to make friends. Actually, it was more like a statement "I'm not here to make friends." Are these women I am going to stay in touch with after tomorrow? No but I learned a great deal from them. Each woman in this room has served a purpose. Each one has taught me something about MYSELF. It's allowed me to see myself from a new perspective. I've worked so hard to get through the week and I see it's paying off.... my quality of life has improved in 4 days but deteriorated over 10 months. It's amazing.
This week reminded me that I am so much stronger than I give myself credit for..... and if that's the only thing I take away, the week was a success.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Road to Sanity: Day Three
Oh wow! I can blog from my iPad. Oprah was right- this is the best investment of the 21st century.
I AM HALFWAY THROUGH!!! I feel as though I've learned so much in the three days I have been there. Yesterday was rough day and I considered not coming back but I had a plan in effect - if I got anymore shit about not being in the eating disorders program I was prepared to walk out or at least get in the face of the director of the program and try, in a very Italian way, and explain once and for all that I was not transferring into the eating disorders program. Fortunately, for them and for me, it didn't have to come to that. I walked in prepared with my "I'm an Anorexic" t-shirt on and a half eaten Bagel around my neck.
My anxiety levels through the week are waning at this point and I was pulled out of group early to meet with my psychologist. She thought it was high time we focused more on why I was there (finally) instead of convincing me I was anorexic and needed help. So, I sat there and poured my guts out to her about the last 10 months of my life: the good, the bad and the ugly with my mom. Needless to say that by the time I finished talking, which seemed like an eternity, I was numb. Completely, totally, utterly numb.
We focused on one particular incident which occurred, that I made a self promise not to blog about.... but I'm going to break that promise. Back in the beginning of the year, my mom was thought to have pneumonia and was recommended to go to the hospital but being a nurse, on top of being stubborn, would not go because she KNEW she didn't have pneumonia. She knew exactly what she needed. I was called at work hoping my mere presence would guilt her into going. Yeah, that plan didn't work and long story short, 911 was called and it was determined a social services incident therefore she was forced to go. In the end, she was right--- she didn't have pneumonia but I felt I had done irreparable damage to our relationship by that point. Or so I thought.
Although we talked about it and I apologized to her, my psychologist painted the following scenario for me: Imagine my husband involuntarily bringing me to an in patient eating disorders clinic when I knew I didn't need to be there. That he took my choice away from me-- even though it would be out of love on his point, it was still him taking my choices away as an adult and that's what I did to my mom that day. Yet another Oprah AHA! moment. So after wiping the tears away, and composing myself, I called my mom and apologized again. My first apology was sincere although I felt as though it was the only thing I could do to repair any harm I've done but this time, this time I understood how she felt and the sorry came from the bottom of my heart. It was then that I promised her that I would always be on her side, and she will always be on mine. It was at that moment I knew my relationship with my mom had finally gone back to what it was.
This program continues to help me on a daily basis. I am learning so much about myself and why I'm so fucked up. It's pretty cool. It is truly solidifying my theory that only children are really fucked up. Each workshop has made me stronger yet it's caused me to question many facets of my life. Namely my career. Is being a buyer for Bloomingdale's on 59th and Lexington possible? Sure. Is it probable? Absolutely not. Yet, I'm beginning to think there is something else out there--- so much more I can offer of myself. Not just in my career but as a mom, a wife, a daughter and a friend. The wheels are turning....
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I AM HALFWAY THROUGH!!! I feel as though I've learned so much in the three days I have been there. Yesterday was rough day and I considered not coming back but I had a plan in effect - if I got anymore shit about not being in the eating disorders program I was prepared to walk out or at least get in the face of the director of the program and try, in a very Italian way, and explain once and for all that I was not transferring into the eating disorders program. Fortunately, for them and for me, it didn't have to come to that. I walked in prepared with my "I'm an Anorexic" t-shirt on and a half eaten Bagel around my neck.
My anxiety levels through the week are waning at this point and I was pulled out of group early to meet with my psychologist. She thought it was high time we focused more on why I was there (finally) instead of convincing me I was anorexic and needed help. So, I sat there and poured my guts out to her about the last 10 months of my life: the good, the bad and the ugly with my mom. Needless to say that by the time I finished talking, which seemed like an eternity, I was numb. Completely, totally, utterly numb.
We focused on one particular incident which occurred, that I made a self promise not to blog about.... but I'm going to break that promise. Back in the beginning of the year, my mom was thought to have pneumonia and was recommended to go to the hospital but being a nurse, on top of being stubborn, would not go because she KNEW she didn't have pneumonia. She knew exactly what she needed. I was called at work hoping my mere presence would guilt her into going. Yeah, that plan didn't work and long story short, 911 was called and it was determined a social services incident therefore she was forced to go. In the end, she was right--- she didn't have pneumonia but I felt I had done irreparable damage to our relationship by that point. Or so I thought.
Although we talked about it and I apologized to her, my psychologist painted the following scenario for me: Imagine my husband involuntarily bringing me to an in patient eating disorders clinic when I knew I didn't need to be there. That he took my choice away from me-- even though it would be out of love on his point, it was still him taking my choices away as an adult and that's what I did to my mom that day. Yet another Oprah AHA! moment. So after wiping the tears away, and composing myself, I called my mom and apologized again. My first apology was sincere although I felt as though it was the only thing I could do to repair any harm I've done but this time, this time I understood how she felt and the sorry came from the bottom of my heart. It was then that I promised her that I would always be on her side, and she will always be on mine. It was at that moment I knew my relationship with my mom had finally gone back to what it was.
This program continues to help me on a daily basis. I am learning so much about myself and why I'm so fucked up. It's pretty cool. It is truly solidifying my theory that only children are really fucked up. Each workshop has made me stronger yet it's caused me to question many facets of my life. Namely my career. Is being a buyer for Bloomingdale's on 59th and Lexington possible? Sure. Is it probable? Absolutely not. Yet, I'm beginning to think there is something else out there--- so much more I can offer of myself. Not just in my career but as a mom, a wife, a daughter and a friend. The wheels are turning....
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Road to Sanity: Day Two
It's funny because during the process of intake into the program, they talk about how many people they tend to lose after the first day. What the fail to mention is the percentage of people who drop out after day two. Holy Fuck, Batman. I don't even know where to begin.... I woke up today feeling better (a little) and ready to go back. I was tired but ready to take on the next challenge of day two or so I thought.
Even though I refused to make friends because well, let's face it, I could give a shit about having more useless people in my life, especially people who share in my anxiety and stress. I need more positive energy in my life, but against my instincts I talked to the other women in the group between workshops and therapy. It was helpful and they give me a perspective from a mom's point of view.... but I digress.
As I was sitting there, learning about reasonable v. emotional mind, I was surprisingly pulled out of my workshop. I hadn't met my social worker yet, so I thought perhaps this could be her. Maybe even the occupational therapist they suggested.... but oh no... I was very, very far off. It was the fucking registered dietitian. Why you ask? To pull me out of the current program and strongly "suggest" I enter their eating disorders program. Hmmmm.... Funny, I thought I addressed this several time yesterday. She soaked up over an hour of my time trying to convince me of their "voluntary" eating disorder program and how beneficial it would be to me. Aside from being totally blindsided by this nonsense, I was pissed and I told her so. Her selling points were: "but you're so close to being better" and "your stories can help the other girls." Um, buy the fucking book if you want help.
I debated my eating disorder with her for over 60 minutes saying, I DIDN'T have one while she continued to say I DID. Finally, she explained the difference between what I see as an anorexic and what the definition of an anorexic, have to do with a state of mind and not a physical look. OK, fine, I concede. I have unhealthy issues with food, I restrict food. Fine. Agreed, let's leave it at that and let me go back to my workshops where I can work on better coping skills. Thank you.
Possibly 10 minutes later, my psychiatrist calls me out. I see her on a daily basis anyway so I rolled with it. Once we got into her office, I told her I was angry about the dietitian she sent to see me which led to her "concern" about my "denial" of an eating disorder. WHAT-THE-FUCK. I'm here trying to deal with a bunch of shit and an eating disorder is just a symptom of the overall process so when you trap me in your office and convince me.... sorry, attempt to convince me of my denial, I lose valuable time in these workshops to deal with my REAL issues.
This is all before noon and I STILL haven't been weighed yet. So I still have that to look forward to-- thank God. Because so far, this day is going swimmingly. After the weigh in or thereabouts, I get the surprise of being taken to the lab for blood work. They call it "routine" but some of the things they checked for (um, electrolyte balance? thyroid issues?) are not fucking routine. This all goes back to the "eating disorder."
Just when I think that my day is close to being done, I get pulled out of my final workshop 30 minutes before we wrap up. This time its my psychologist and guess what, she wants to talk about my denial of being anorexic. It's just a losing battle. This time I finally wasn't being convinced I should leave my current program for the eating disorders program. She just wanted to reiterate that there are options and ways to get help if I think I need it. Ugh. Fine. I give up. If I want help, you're here, I get it. Although I thought I was in the clear, the social worker found me..... Guess what? She wanted to talk about my "eating disorder." I find all of this ironic since most of the day was spent discussing radical acceptance. So here we go:
I AM ANOREXIC
Tomorrow I plan to wear it in a fluorescent t-shirt so no one thinks I am in denial. Yes, I restrict food. Yes, I HAVE A FUCKING EATING DISORDER NOW WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? All I ask is to be left alone to deal with the issues I really need help with and let this one just go. Because I know I'll be fine. I know my limitations. OK, I sound like every other addict out there but I do. I like being skinny right now so just let me be. Let me work on the problems I REALLY need help with.....
Even though all this shit happened, I could still come up with three happy things: eating at d.Carlo's for dinner (see, I DO eat--- even though it doesn't conform to "normal standards"), putting on clean sheets (there is nothing better than getting in a bed with clean sheets) and writing this blog today.
Even though I had a bad fucking day, I did have an Oprah aha! moment. I now have a developed a coping skill when my anxiety is triggered. It won't happen overnight, but I have one. It's the first time in 35 years that I have a coping skill. I learned that my needs are just as important as anyone else's
Step one though is to definitely start wearing my "I heart Anorexia" t-shirt because if I've learned ANYTHING in two days it's that these people (ones i behavioral health) LOVE fucking labels. If it makes them feel better to label me anorexic, then so be it. I may not see eye to eye with these people but I know they know more than I do..... so, if you say I'm anorexic. OK, bring it on. Let's get this-- because I am in control.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Road to Sanity: Day One
Sitting in the waiting room, I took a good look around me. The women I saw, appeared on the outside, to be a great deal like me. I soaked in every minute and listened to the chatter around me as I pretended to read on my iPad. Some of the women were taken off into groups and before I knew it, I was sitting all alone. Turns out they were there for a different program.... a program I probably should have been in based on the conversations I was hearing. I continued to sit and read while I waited to be escorted to my group. The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. I texted replies to those who wished me luck. Began to wish that I was someplace else..... Yet most of all, I tried to remember how I got here in the first place.
When you are told (let's make it clear, this wasn't completely voluntary on my part-- this was driven at least 70% by guilt) that you are going to spend a week in outpatient psychiatric treatment you start to think what the fuck does that mean exactly? I had no idea what to expect and by 11 am my head was spinning. Literally spinning. Obviously this wouldn't be a normal anxiety-ridden experience unless I had a panic attack, which I did while sitting in my car in the parking lot-- debating on whether I was really going to do this. My emotions were on the brink of overflowing and I didn't know when or if I was going to cry (for the record, I did).
My day today was hectic. Overwhelming. Confusing. And of course, filled with anxiety. It basically is a full day of workshops and group therapy during which you are pulled out by a psychiatrist, psychologist and a social worker over the course of the day. So what that meant was, even though I went through a two hour intake process and they had all the notes in front of them, I was forced to repeat the same stories three times today. Argued with three people over NOT being in the eating disorders program. And eventually became emotionally numb to the whole experience. Although I won't see all three of these people on a daily basis, I will see at least 2 out of three daily. Great. Because therapy twice a week wasn't enough so let me spend 7 hours a day talking about my issues.
The group sessions weren't as bad as I thought. They are mainly workshops. When I hear the term group therapy, I picture what I see I Celebrity Rehab which is the Doctor (ie Dr. Drew) sitting at the head of a semi-circle with a group of fucked up people in comfortable chairs wrapped in blankets just sharing emotions and "how they feel" that day. Yeah, nothing like that--- at least not in this program. We sat around a table in a cold room and on uncomfortable chairs. Without giving up to much confidentiality, the women varied in age and I found it difficult to take advice, when I did "share," from a 23 year old. But I don't want to minimize her feelings and though she was trying to be helpful, I felt my problems were more then she could understand. I think alot of what I feel and am going through is harder to deal with because I have a husband and a child. If the only person I had to focus on was ME, I probably wouldn't be there but again, I don't want to minimize her issues.
I need to be more conscious of the eye rolling I do because I can't take some of the nonsense I hear from the others in group. That's just my personality and it's tough to change. I hate nonsense. To them it's not nonsense--- to them it's real. To me it's bullshit. I really don't like the fact that I am judgmental. Interestingly, I'm not judgmental with my friends even when I know they have done things wrong but to pass judgment on a stranger, that's not a problem. I think it's because I'm a bitch--- that's still up for discussion. But, I try to keep an open mind. I learned a little today and I hope to learn more tomorrow. Today's aha! moment was that I DON'T have to appreciate all that I have but I need to appreciate the little things that make me happy---- like watching Donnie on Dancing with the Stars do his salsa moves. I could watch that about 1000 times and it makes me really, really happy. By taking happiness in the little things, I will start to appreciate the bigger picture. At least that is the goal. Everyday, I need to write down three things that make me happy.
Today: dinner went smoothly with Avery meaning, she asked what for what she wanted, I made it and she ate it. Sadly that doesn't happen every day. Next, Avery and I played the kissing game which is one of my favorite things-- it's a game where she asks me to kiss her nose, her cheeks, her eyes, etc. Each kiss end in a burst of giggles. Finally, most of my friends and those in my family who know sent me well wishes. Some didn't--- and I am not going to dwell on it. I guess that means I learned two things today.
Worst part of the day???? Hands down was being weighed. I knew it was coming. I was dreading it and I think that was what was in the back of my head the whole day. The program ends at about 3:30 and by 2, I still hadn't been weighed. I thought I may have escaped the nightmare. I weigh myself every morning using 2 scales yet I don't want to be weighed--- that's called a paradox. A really fucked up paradox. When you're weighed in a program like this, and they label you as having an "eating disorder" they don't let you see the scale. Now, I know what my mechanical scale said today and I know what my digital scale said but I have no idea what that doctor's scale said. That caused great anxiety. I'm not allowed to face forward. Of course when the weighing occurred, I made it a big fucking project. First, I had to pee. Second, the sweater had to come off. Third, shoes and watch came off and Finally, I put my hair up. For whatever reason, all of these things will cause me to weigh the least amount --- in my head.
The good news? They didn't succeed at transferring me into the eating disorder program. The bad news? I will be weighed every day and my vitals will be taken every day. I also have been tapped for some special blood work. Oh, and I'm also going to have the "opportunity" to take part in "extra programs" during the day in lieu of group. So I think they are sneaking "eating disorder" bullshit but, without the supervised means and trips to the bathroom or the daily meeting with the nutritionist to go over the fucking food pyramid. I may play along with their game but they aren't pulling one over on me, I can see right through this.
Today I went in with an open mind. I shared my thoughts with the group and was open and honest with the professionals I saw. I even did my "homework" though I think it's bullshit and more work that I don't have time for, but I did it. Either go balls to the wall or don't do it at all..... Tonight, my anxiety is off the charts. Blogging helps but soon, I can sleep. Only to wake up to do it all again tomorrow. I still don't know what to expect-- because every day is a different day but I can proudly say I completed DAY ONE.
When you are told (let's make it clear, this wasn't completely voluntary on my part-- this was driven at least 70% by guilt) that you are going to spend a week in outpatient psychiatric treatment you start to think what the fuck does that mean exactly? I had no idea what to expect and by 11 am my head was spinning. Literally spinning. Obviously this wouldn't be a normal anxiety-ridden experience unless I had a panic attack, which I did while sitting in my car in the parking lot-- debating on whether I was really going to do this. My emotions were on the brink of overflowing and I didn't know when or if I was going to cry (for the record, I did).
My day today was hectic. Overwhelming. Confusing. And of course, filled with anxiety. It basically is a full day of workshops and group therapy during which you are pulled out by a psychiatrist, psychologist and a social worker over the course of the day. So what that meant was, even though I went through a two hour intake process and they had all the notes in front of them, I was forced to repeat the same stories three times today. Argued with three people over NOT being in the eating disorders program. And eventually became emotionally numb to the whole experience. Although I won't see all three of these people on a daily basis, I will see at least 2 out of three daily. Great. Because therapy twice a week wasn't enough so let me spend 7 hours a day talking about my issues.
The group sessions weren't as bad as I thought. They are mainly workshops. When I hear the term group therapy, I picture what I see I Celebrity Rehab which is the Doctor (ie Dr. Drew) sitting at the head of a semi-circle with a group of fucked up people in comfortable chairs wrapped in blankets just sharing emotions and "how they feel" that day. Yeah, nothing like that--- at least not in this program. We sat around a table in a cold room and on uncomfortable chairs. Without giving up to much confidentiality, the women varied in age and I found it difficult to take advice, when I did "share," from a 23 year old. But I don't want to minimize her feelings and though she was trying to be helpful, I felt my problems were more then she could understand. I think alot of what I feel and am going through is harder to deal with because I have a husband and a child. If the only person I had to focus on was ME, I probably wouldn't be there but again, I don't want to minimize her issues.
I need to be more conscious of the eye rolling I do because I can't take some of the nonsense I hear from the others in group. That's just my personality and it's tough to change. I hate nonsense. To them it's not nonsense--- to them it's real. To me it's bullshit. I really don't like the fact that I am judgmental. Interestingly, I'm not judgmental with my friends even when I know they have done things wrong but to pass judgment on a stranger, that's not a problem. I think it's because I'm a bitch--- that's still up for discussion. But, I try to keep an open mind. I learned a little today and I hope to learn more tomorrow. Today's aha! moment was that I DON'T have to appreciate all that I have but I need to appreciate the little things that make me happy---- like watching Donnie on Dancing with the Stars do his salsa moves. I could watch that about 1000 times and it makes me really, really happy. By taking happiness in the little things, I will start to appreciate the bigger picture. At least that is the goal. Everyday, I need to write down three things that make me happy.
Today: dinner went smoothly with Avery meaning, she asked what for what she wanted, I made it and she ate it. Sadly that doesn't happen every day. Next, Avery and I played the kissing game which is one of my favorite things-- it's a game where she asks me to kiss her nose, her cheeks, her eyes, etc. Each kiss end in a burst of giggles. Finally, most of my friends and those in my family who know sent me well wishes. Some didn't--- and I am not going to dwell on it. I guess that means I learned two things today.
Worst part of the day???? Hands down was being weighed. I knew it was coming. I was dreading it and I think that was what was in the back of my head the whole day. The program ends at about 3:30 and by 2, I still hadn't been weighed. I thought I may have escaped the nightmare. I weigh myself every morning using 2 scales yet I don't want to be weighed--- that's called a paradox. A really fucked up paradox. When you're weighed in a program like this, and they label you as having an "eating disorder" they don't let you see the scale. Now, I know what my mechanical scale said today and I know what my digital scale said but I have no idea what that doctor's scale said. That caused great anxiety. I'm not allowed to face forward. Of course when the weighing occurred, I made it a big fucking project. First, I had to pee. Second, the sweater had to come off. Third, shoes and watch came off and Finally, I put my hair up. For whatever reason, all of these things will cause me to weigh the least amount --- in my head.
The good news? They didn't succeed at transferring me into the eating disorder program. The bad news? I will be weighed every day and my vitals will be taken every day. I also have been tapped for some special blood work. Oh, and I'm also going to have the "opportunity" to take part in "extra programs" during the day in lieu of group. So I think they are sneaking "eating disorder" bullshit but, without the supervised means and trips to the bathroom or the daily meeting with the nutritionist to go over the fucking food pyramid. I may play along with their game but they aren't pulling one over on me, I can see right through this.
Today I went in with an open mind. I shared my thoughts with the group and was open and honest with the professionals I saw. I even did my "homework" though I think it's bullshit and more work that I don't have time for, but I did it. Either go balls to the wall or don't do it at all..... Tonight, my anxiety is off the charts. Blogging helps but soon, I can sleep. Only to wake up to do it all again tomorrow. I still don't know what to expect-- because every day is a different day but I can proudly say I completed DAY ONE.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Things Are Not Always How They Appear
I've been hearing a great deal about how lucky/fortunate I am. There is no reason to be depressed, anxious, stressed, unhappy, etc. I've said it before, on paper, my life is pretty spectacular. I have a beautiful healthy daughter, an understanding husband, a gorgeous house, a nice car, a closet filled with Louboutins, designer clothes and Chanel purses.... I could go on and on but all of those material items really mean shit to me. No matter what people believe, they mean SHIT to me. I will not deny that being an only child I've always had nice things--- it's much easier with one child to give them that sort of stuff. When I was younger, I know that my parents made sacrifices for me to have those things but those sacrifices, while I was aware of them, never interfered with me.
When I met my husband, he was successful and driven. Never, in MY wildest dreams did I think we were going to have the life we have. That he was going to make the money he makes. I'm sure he knew.... He set his goal, he works his ass off, and accomplishes anything and everything he put his mind too. It's beyond being a hard worker.... It could be the military brainwashing.... It could be the fact that his dad set a good example of working hard to get what you want.
Now, my husband is very successful in a competitive industry. He doesn't save lives--- although he can make an argument that he does but it's fucking bullshit. Does he take time off? Rarely. Very rarely. I'll admit, vacations this year were put on hold due to my mom's illness but has he ever taken the day off to spend with me? Nope. Just me. During all of this shit that I've been wading through for months on end, has he stopped to think that the one thing he could do is to take a day off? No.
So here we are--- I'm on medical leave, about to enter an outpatient psychiatric hospital and I'm told that he needs to work over an entire holiday weekend. Have I told him I'm upset? Sure. Does it matter? No. It's his job which is tied for first place with our daughter. He's an amazing father. When I watch him with her my heart can almost explode. I can see the bond forming right before my eyes-- that daddy's little girl thing which I had. It's hard to even write about without crying. On his days off, he spends time with her doing "fun" stuff...... (ie, daddy plays outside not mommy).
Now, where do I fit in? who the fuck knows. I know I'm up there somewhere but maybe in the top 5. It's a bold statement but I HATE HIS JOB. I would be happy driving a Toyota, living in a small house (provided we were still in a good school system) but being TOGETHER. He keeps asking how he can help me. I know he's put up with a great deal of verbal and emotional abuse from me and most men would have left by now (only during the last few months, not the entire marriage). I don't want him to leave his job- he loves it, he's good at it and it makes him happy. I'm jealous. I don't have that kind of job. I wish I woke up excited to go to my job.
I knew what his job entailed when we met. He's been in the same line of business for as long as we've known each other. But, at the end of the day, all these material things don't mean anything to me if I have no one to share them with..... I love my husband very much. So much that I WANT to spend time with him. Right now, I NEED him more than I ever have before but I don't think he gets it-- even though I've lost my shit trying to explain it to him. I really NEED him. But he's not here.... sometimes I feel like he's never here......
This leave was a big decision. I'm trying to get my head straight and making plans to do things that I haven't had time to do because of work, being a mom, being a wife, being a daughter. Most of all, I just want to be with my husband. When I said I do for life, I meant for life. But I can only compromise so much. I can only accept so much. "It is what it is" doesn't cut it anymore.... "This is my job" doesn't cut it either..... Right now, as selfish as it sounds, I need to be FIRST (well, second to the baby) but I need to be his only concern and I'm not.
So, to all those who think I have a picture perfect life, I do, on the outside. But, on the inside, the walls are starting to crack.
When I met my husband, he was successful and driven. Never, in MY wildest dreams did I think we were going to have the life we have. That he was going to make the money he makes. I'm sure he knew.... He set his goal, he works his ass off, and accomplishes anything and everything he put his mind too. It's beyond being a hard worker.... It could be the military brainwashing.... It could be the fact that his dad set a good example of working hard to get what you want.
Now, my husband is very successful in a competitive industry. He doesn't save lives--- although he can make an argument that he does but it's fucking bullshit. Does he take time off? Rarely. Very rarely. I'll admit, vacations this year were put on hold due to my mom's illness but has he ever taken the day off to spend with me? Nope. Just me. During all of this shit that I've been wading through for months on end, has he stopped to think that the one thing he could do is to take a day off? No.
So here we are--- I'm on medical leave, about to enter an outpatient psychiatric hospital and I'm told that he needs to work over an entire holiday weekend. Have I told him I'm upset? Sure. Does it matter? No. It's his job which is tied for first place with our daughter. He's an amazing father. When I watch him with her my heart can almost explode. I can see the bond forming right before my eyes-- that daddy's little girl thing which I had. It's hard to even write about without crying. On his days off, he spends time with her doing "fun" stuff...... (ie, daddy plays outside not mommy).
Now, where do I fit in? who the fuck knows. I know I'm up there somewhere but maybe in the top 5. It's a bold statement but I HATE HIS JOB. I would be happy driving a Toyota, living in a small house (provided we were still in a good school system) but being TOGETHER. He keeps asking how he can help me. I know he's put up with a great deal of verbal and emotional abuse from me and most men would have left by now (only during the last few months, not the entire marriage). I don't want him to leave his job- he loves it, he's good at it and it makes him happy. I'm jealous. I don't have that kind of job. I wish I woke up excited to go to my job.
I knew what his job entailed when we met. He's been in the same line of business for as long as we've known each other. But, at the end of the day, all these material things don't mean anything to me if I have no one to share them with..... I love my husband very much. So much that I WANT to spend time with him. Right now, I NEED him more than I ever have before but I don't think he gets it-- even though I've lost my shit trying to explain it to him. I really NEED him. But he's not here.... sometimes I feel like he's never here......
This leave was a big decision. I'm trying to get my head straight and making plans to do things that I haven't had time to do because of work, being a mom, being a wife, being a daughter. Most of all, I just want to be with my husband. When I said I do for life, I meant for life. But I can only compromise so much. I can only accept so much. "It is what it is" doesn't cut it anymore.... "This is my job" doesn't cut it either..... Right now, as selfish as it sounds, I need to be FIRST (well, second to the baby) but I need to be his only concern and I'm not.
So, to all those who think I have a picture perfect life, I do, on the outside. But, on the inside, the walls are starting to crack.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
And Away We Go...
After weeks.... sorry, months.... of agonizing over taking a leave of absence the day is finally here. It's my last day at work for 4.5 weeks. (BIG EXHALE). Right now I have knots in my stomach, I feel like I need to vomit, and I'm scared. But I am doing the right thing. Not for my husband, not for my daughter but for ME. Everyone knows now-- including my mom. Her husband told her, which went against advice I received but I had to trust my gut. She was upset initially that I didn't tell her but I think her concern overshadowed that and I received the phone call I was hoping for.... She told me she loved me (which I've obviously never ever doubted) and that she's going to support me. As for the EDNOS--- she was not pleased and this is going to be a battle with her. She was pissed the first time around and she's not any better this time. She questions what I eat, adds food to my plate,etc.... You know, all the things a mom would do in this situation. But I'm not mad. I'm not even annoyed. I told her that sometimes a girl needs her mom-- no matter how old she is.... I'm sure that I will work on this codependency issue ad nauseum when I enter (drum roll please) The Psychiatric Hospital.
Yes, I sat through a two hour evaluation and was recommended to TWO programs. I think that means I'm super crazy. Anyway, I was recommended to one for my EDNOS and another "women's program." My response to the ED program was simply "I do not want supervised meals, I am not going to be escorted to the bathroom and I am not meeting with a nutritionist because I don't give a shit about the food pyramid." Yup. That pretty much sums that shit up. She quickly realized that wasn't the program for me and honestly, at 119 lbs (depending on the scale), I'd be the fat chick in the room. Who wants that stigma??
Oh one very important piece of advice, when being evaluated by a mental health professional for placement in an outpatient psychiatric hospital, and you're asked if you have homicidal thoughts, don't respond with, "Only when I'm driving." They take that shit seriously. I thought it was pretty fucking funny to be honest. I was wrong..... Either that or she didn't have much of a sense of humor.
The evaluation was PAINFUL and EXHAUSTING. It caused a great deal of money to be spent on some serious retail therapy. Have I mentioned that I've bought 4 pairs of shoes in the last 2 weeks??? And that's not counting the Louboutins that I scored in NYC. Yup. I see lots of shopping in my future but I may just stick to Old Navy. My program, which will include cutters, crack addicts and prostitutes consists of 7 hours of intense therapy for 5 days. Are there desperate housewives types (a la me) there as well, sure but we're the minority for sure.
There will be HOURS of one on one. There will also be workshops and group therapy. I'll need a pen and notebook but somehow I think showing up with my Donnie Wahlberg notebook wouldn't be perceived well. Unless of course there is a huge D-Dub fan in my group. She may appreciate it. In the time it's taken me to decide to go, share my decision and come to terms with it I have accepted that I have an eating disorder. I'm a grown ass woman with an eating disorder. I'm not 22 looking for attention. I have an addiction... and it's real. Sadly, I have people in my life who I consider good friends who can be judgmental and I've told them I've been under stress when asked about my rapid weight loss but I'm not going to hide behind that anymore.
My father in law is a recovering alcoholic. I've recently spoken at length with him about this and he tells me I didn't relapse.... that it never goes away and it's a demon you fight for ever but every morning he wakes up and says, I didn't have a drink yesterday and that keeps him going. He's been sober 25 years now. No matter how we slice what's going on with me-- depression, EDNOS, anxiety..... I need help. I'm taking the first step on a long journey. I've gained support in places that I didn't know about. People in my life who love me and care about me that I just didn't know. I don't mean my mom or husband but random people who have suddenly appeared in my life. I thought by accident at first, but now I believe my dad lead them to me to help me.
I'm scared as fuck. I really am. I'm about to dig deep into suppressed feelings that have been stuffed to the bottom of the barrel. The unknown causes a great deal of stress to me and I don't know what's going to happen as a result of this. During the evaluation I was told that a great deal of the women drop out before completing the 5 days. She asked that I give it at least 2 days before making that decision. Well, if I can give it two, I can give it fucking 5. I'm not going through all this shit for no reason.
A big questions weighing on my mind is, does my being so fucked up have anything to do with being an only child? The answer is yes, loud and clear. I don't blame my mom. She was the best mom and did everything to protect me but I think I was protected too much. I've said it before, being an only child comes with a great deal of self imposed perfectionist pressure. Now that's NOT my mom's fault. That's mine. I've created this world of stress and anxiety.
What do I hope to accomplish? I have no goals. I am going in open minded, clear headed and ready. ....but come and talk to me after day one.
Yes, I sat through a two hour evaluation and was recommended to TWO programs. I think that means I'm super crazy. Anyway, I was recommended to one for my EDNOS and another "women's program." My response to the ED program was simply "I do not want supervised meals, I am not going to be escorted to the bathroom and I am not meeting with a nutritionist because I don't give a shit about the food pyramid." Yup. That pretty much sums that shit up. She quickly realized that wasn't the program for me and honestly, at 119 lbs (depending on the scale), I'd be the fat chick in the room. Who wants that stigma??
Oh one very important piece of advice, when being evaluated by a mental health professional for placement in an outpatient psychiatric hospital, and you're asked if you have homicidal thoughts, don't respond with, "Only when I'm driving." They take that shit seriously. I thought it was pretty fucking funny to be honest. I was wrong..... Either that or she didn't have much of a sense of humor.
The evaluation was PAINFUL and EXHAUSTING. It caused a great deal of money to be spent on some serious retail therapy. Have I mentioned that I've bought 4 pairs of shoes in the last 2 weeks??? And that's not counting the Louboutins that I scored in NYC. Yup. I see lots of shopping in my future but I may just stick to Old Navy. My program, which will include cutters, crack addicts and prostitutes consists of 7 hours of intense therapy for 5 days. Are there desperate housewives types (a la me) there as well, sure but we're the minority for sure.
There will be HOURS of one on one. There will also be workshops and group therapy. I'll need a pen and notebook but somehow I think showing up with my Donnie Wahlberg notebook wouldn't be perceived well. Unless of course there is a huge D-Dub fan in my group. She may appreciate it. In the time it's taken me to decide to go, share my decision and come to terms with it I have accepted that I have an eating disorder. I'm a grown ass woman with an eating disorder. I'm not 22 looking for attention. I have an addiction... and it's real. Sadly, I have people in my life who I consider good friends who can be judgmental and I've told them I've been under stress when asked about my rapid weight loss but I'm not going to hide behind that anymore.
My father in law is a recovering alcoholic. I've recently spoken at length with him about this and he tells me I didn't relapse.... that it never goes away and it's a demon you fight for ever but every morning he wakes up and says, I didn't have a drink yesterday and that keeps him going. He's been sober 25 years now. No matter how we slice what's going on with me-- depression, EDNOS, anxiety..... I need help. I'm taking the first step on a long journey. I've gained support in places that I didn't know about. People in my life who love me and care about me that I just didn't know. I don't mean my mom or husband but random people who have suddenly appeared in my life. I thought by accident at first, but now I believe my dad lead them to me to help me.
I'm scared as fuck. I really am. I'm about to dig deep into suppressed feelings that have been stuffed to the bottom of the barrel. The unknown causes a great deal of stress to me and I don't know what's going to happen as a result of this. During the evaluation I was told that a great deal of the women drop out before completing the 5 days. She asked that I give it at least 2 days before making that decision. Well, if I can give it two, I can give it fucking 5. I'm not going through all this shit for no reason.
A big questions weighing on my mind is, does my being so fucked up have anything to do with being an only child? The answer is yes, loud and clear. I don't blame my mom. She was the best mom and did everything to protect me but I think I was protected too much. I've said it before, being an only child comes with a great deal of self imposed perfectionist pressure. Now that's NOT my mom's fault. That's mine. I've created this world of stress and anxiety.
What do I hope to accomplish? I have no goals. I am going in open minded, clear headed and ready. ....but come and talk to me after day one.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Glimpse into a Dream Job
I'm writing a great deal about depressing shit but there has been something exciting that's recently happened (and about to happen which I will blog about at a later date). Not sure when it happened, but I think that I was about 22 years old, when I thought DB and I were going to get married, that I became obsessed with weddings. Not actually getting married but having the most unique wedding down the very teeny details. I'll admit, I bought bridal magazines when I was single just to see the trends in dresses and what was being over done at receptions.
Then came my moment to shine. My husband proposed and although some may disagree, I was not "bridezilla" but rather detail oriented. There was not one piece of my wedding that didn't have a special connection to us as a couple or each of separately. Luckily my husband trusted my judgment since he had such a hard time picturing my vision but in the end, I have no complaints. Granted, I chose the best vendors around. Flowers and photography were number one after venue and in my opinion, I chose the best of the best. And beyond. The day came and went but my obsession continued to linger.....
The stars pretty much aligned for me and I was able to maintain a great friendship with my photographer and as for flowers, I refuse to use anyone else. These relationships have paid off in a way I never dreamt was possible. A few weekends back, I was able to actually attend NYC Bridal Fashion Week. OK, so some people have never heard of it but to me, I'd rather be there than watch some whacked out Marc Jacobs fashion show in a tent at Bryant Park.
For a brief two hours, I was able to pretend that I didn't have a boring desk job but that I was a wedding planner. Not just a wedding planner, but THE wedding planner. I attended only a few shows but they happened to showcase the designer who designed my gown, Amsale. I may not have had a front row... or even a second row for that matter. Okay, truth be told, I was the asshole standing in the back BUT I saw Martha Stewart's team. So it made it all worth it.
Each fashion show happens so fast that if you even blink you'll miss something..... But the rush of when the lights go down, the spotlights blare and the music blasts is incredible. I had chills everywhere and then the brides starting strutting down the runway.... Looking wispy and romantic.....Covered in satin, tulle, delicate beading..... ranging in colors of stark white to champagne.... And as I'm watching this, I'm picturing the wedding where the brides would be wearing them. The flowers they would carry.... As a side note, until you've seen a real model, no one has any business calling me skinny. These girls looked like heroine addicts covered in make up. That aside.... the beauty of the dresses outweighed the scariness of their bodies.
It was an experience on my bucket list that I can cross off and maybe someday I will be the wedding planner I dream of..... Although my patience is thin, to say the least, I think I can handle brides. I felt important being there--- in a weird twisted sort of way. There were definitely the wedding elite in attendance but there were also people who clearly didnt' belong there. I made sure to carry my Chanel to look important. I even used my iPhone to take pictures.
The opportunity may never present itself again but it brought me a great deal of happiness. It's an experience that will stay with me forever. Unfortunately, for my husband, the simple Vegas vow renewal we were planning has turned into another way hone my skills and let my creativity go wild. Not sure how I'm going to break THAT news to him.
Then came my moment to shine. My husband proposed and although some may disagree, I was not "bridezilla" but rather detail oriented. There was not one piece of my wedding that didn't have a special connection to us as a couple or each of separately. Luckily my husband trusted my judgment since he had such a hard time picturing my vision but in the end, I have no complaints. Granted, I chose the best vendors around. Flowers and photography were number one after venue and in my opinion, I chose the best of the best. And beyond. The day came and went but my obsession continued to linger.....
The stars pretty much aligned for me and I was able to maintain a great friendship with my photographer and as for flowers, I refuse to use anyone else. These relationships have paid off in a way I never dreamt was possible. A few weekends back, I was able to actually attend NYC Bridal Fashion Week. OK, so some people have never heard of it but to me, I'd rather be there than watch some whacked out Marc Jacobs fashion show in a tent at Bryant Park.
For a brief two hours, I was able to pretend that I didn't have a boring desk job but that I was a wedding planner. Not just a wedding planner, but THE wedding planner. I attended only a few shows but they happened to showcase the designer who designed my gown, Amsale. I may not have had a front row... or even a second row for that matter. Okay, truth be told, I was the asshole standing in the back BUT I saw Martha Stewart's team. So it made it all worth it.
Each fashion show happens so fast that if you even blink you'll miss something..... But the rush of when the lights go down, the spotlights blare and the music blasts is incredible. I had chills everywhere and then the brides starting strutting down the runway.... Looking wispy and romantic.....Covered in satin, tulle, delicate beading..... ranging in colors of stark white to champagne.... And as I'm watching this, I'm picturing the wedding where the brides would be wearing them. The flowers they would carry.... As a side note, until you've seen a real model, no one has any business calling me skinny. These girls looked like heroine addicts covered in make up. That aside.... the beauty of the dresses outweighed the scariness of their bodies.
It was an experience on my bucket list that I can cross off and maybe someday I will be the wedding planner I dream of..... Although my patience is thin, to say the least, I think I can handle brides. I felt important being there--- in a weird twisted sort of way. There were definitely the wedding elite in attendance but there were also people who clearly didnt' belong there. I made sure to carry my Chanel to look important. I even used my iPhone to take pictures.
The opportunity may never present itself again but it brought me a great deal of happiness. It's an experience that will stay with me forever. Unfortunately, for my husband, the simple Vegas vow renewal we were planning has turned into another way hone my skills and let my creativity go wild. Not sure how I'm going to break THAT news to him.
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