It's time to get real

Blogging has been a great avenue for me to get out my thoughts and feelings  and be an example of what it's like to deal with mental illness.  The Robin Williams suicide still weighs heavy on my mind.  Even though he struggled I like to think that he'd encourage us to keep our heads up and keep moving forward, to get the help and support we need.  I've been feeling a mix of emotions - determined to be 100% in recovery and exhausted from trying to fight.  And then I feel stuck and confused because I know what life was like before recovery and I can't go back there.  It makes me think of the most recent show I was in.  Our director loved building on layers and after we reached a certain level of energy she'd say, "now we've reached this next level, we can't go backwards."

I can't go backwards.  If I'm honest with myself I already have gone backwards a bit, that's what lapses are: shifting your car in reverse because things just got real.  I remember telling one of my friends the reason I was scared to seek help was because it would make it real.  It already is real, was his response.  And he was right.  I don't want any of this to be real, but it is.  This whole time I thought I was accepting the fact that I had a problem, but was I really?  I'm not trying to denounce the strides I have made or the awareness I have brought out, but I'm half assing recovery.  Things got hard so what did I do?  I went back to what made me feel safe, something I knew.  It may make me feel miserable, but I know what to expect.

I need to step out of my comfort zone even more than I have.  I need to feel uncomfortable and yucky and scared and unpleasant to prove that I won't die from it.  I've been standing in my way my whole life.  Why?  Because I'm scared to mess up, to be imperfect, to be a disappointment, to be successful, to actually like who I am, to do something wonderful.  I'm scared to move and to live.

I want to be creative and write and sing and dance and act, but I'm terrified to do any of it.  Excuses always pop up.  It's safer not to fail.  Well fuck that.  

I'm blessed with so many friends who possess wisdom.  Last night a different friend said: You're not writing to impress anyone, even if you think you are.  You're doing it because Emily needs to do it.

So true.  I've been yearning to express myself for so long, but then my fearful self stands in the way and talks me out of it.

I can't do that anymore.  It's time I get real with myself and work harder than I ever have before because I need to.

Mental illness and relationships

This week my husband and I celebrated our five year anniversary.  We've known each other for over ten years.  John is actually the first person I told I had an eating disorder.  I was nineteen and he made me feel safe.  I couldn't hold on to my secret anymore.  So one evening when we were chatting online as usual I told him I had a problem.  It was the scariest thing I could have done at the time, but the closer I became with John, the safer I felt.  I could and still can tell him anything.  

Actually opening up about anything in the beginning was very difficult.  There were times we'd talk on the phone and I wouldn't be able to say certain words or phrases because I was ashamed.  I used to tell him to guess.  I'd be able to only say so much and then the guessing games began.  It always amazed me that he didn't go running in the opposite direction and that he cared enough to wait until I could finally say what was on my mind.

There are many days I feel guilty for having mental health issues because I know it affects him.  I'm not an easy person to live with.  Behind closed doors I am a different person.  There are moments I just want to lie in bed or I'm super emotional and sobbing or I'm anxious and I lose my patience.

Last year when my suicidal thoughts were at their worst I truly believed that if I died he'd be set free from the misery I was causing.  I feel like I cause so much trouble and I find myself apologizing over and over again.  On our anniversary while we were eating breakfast I just blurted out I'm sorry.  I don't  always have the greatest filter and my mind went off on a very unhelpful trail.  I was thinking of everything that I had done wrong.  John is somewhat used to my blurtings out, but he cocked his head and asked, "where is this coming from?"  I didn't really know how to respond because here I was again  feeling bad on a day I'm supposed to be feeling good.  On days that we want to have fun sometimes we have to actively say we are going to have a good day and we aren't going to let things bring us down.  It's more for my sake, to remind myself I'm allowed to enjoy myself and I don't have to be bombarded with negative self talk.  It's easier said than done.

Having a relationship (romantic or not) with someone who is struggling with a mental illness is very difficult.  I almost said "can be difficult", but there's no reason to sugar coat it.  It's difficult, period.  Your spouse, partner, friend, family member, colleague, whoever it is wants to understand, but if they haven't gone through it they can only understand so much.  And as the person with the problem, you can't even control it, even though you try so hard to be a good person.  I remember a specific time last year John became frustrated when I wasn't really engaging in conversation.  He was just trying to get something out of me, but I was so deep in my depression it wouldn't have mattered what he said, I wasn't going to respond to anything, especially if it seemed trivial.  He asked why I wasn't talking and I just lost it.  I screamed at him that I didn't care about the fucking lights in the living room.  

I don't understand where the anger and rage come from.  My therapist says it has to do with my anxiety, that it builds up and has nowhere to go and then BAM, I've exploded all over whoever is in my path.  I feel so out of control when it happens.  It's like I can see and hear myself doing and saying all these terrible things and I can't stop it, I just watch the train wreck happen.  Then a lot of sobbing happens and later apologizing.

Obviously John and I aren't in a constant fight.  I cherish the moments we laugh and do silly things that no one would understand but us.  I cherish the long hugs and sweet kisses.  I cherish date nights and his good cooking.  I cherish going for our walks and stopping by the swingset in the park because I just have to swing.

I want to thank my family and friends for being so supportive and putting up with my good and bad days.  We don't always see eye to eye and we don't always spend lots of time together, but in the end you're there when it matters. I'm here for anyone who needs a helping hand or a good listener.  As I've said before, we don't have to do this on our own.

Suicide

I'm sitting here in shock of the news of Robin Williams' death, his apparent suicide.  I've wanted to blog about suicide for awhile, but it's such a difficult and morbid topic.

Late last year I remember how dark my thoughts became.  How I was going to kill myself and that act was supposed to make everything better.  How I researched online different methods.  I didn't know what I was really searching for: the quickest way, the most painful, the least painful, the potentially irreversible in case I didn't really mean it.  I've come from a long way from those dark thoughts although I still experience them from time to time, but there are people in our lives who struggle with this every day on a constant basis.  Most I'm sure are suffering in silence.

The pain and thoughts become too much that death just seems like the next best thing, the ultimate escape.  I really believed no one would care, life would go on, no one would miss me.  Why would they?  It's just me.

People are going to say that Robin seemed happy, he was a comedian, was so successful, was so funny, made us smile and laugh...how could he take his own life?  It's rather simple, unfortunately.

For so long I put on an act of being happy and put together.  Everything is "fine", "no worries", I'm "just tired"...when really I wished I could scream for somebody to realize something is wrong.  But I always managed a smile, a laugh, a joke.  Just like you can't judge someone on the outside in regards to eating disorders, you can't judge someone on the outside if they are suicidal, anxious, depressed, or plagued by some other form of mental illness.

We are afraid to be viewed as weak if we acknowledge the fact that we struggle, but really we are strong.  What I've learned from this blog and being open and honest is that people do care and they want the best for you.  They are in your corner rooting for you.

Suicidal ideation is no joke.  If you ever start having those thoughts you must tell someone.  I learned that speaking my thoughts out loud actually took away some of their power.  I know it's so difficult to start the conversation, but if I hadn't started it I might not be here.  That conversation was a catalyst for me getting help.  It's an ongoing process, it takes time and effort, it takes journaling and crying and yelling and coloring and talking and hanging out with friends and watching movies and sitting through the yucky feelings until they subside (they eventually subside, patience isn't always my virtue though).

And even if we fight with all our might some of us don't make it.  I can't explain that.  I wish I could.

Rest in peace, Robin.  I pray your family, friends, and fans also find peace in your absence and will keep your memory alive.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break my spirit

It's hard to explain why I have irrational thoughts, why I want to take a razor to my skin, why I want to starve and purge, why I believe I am worthless.  My mom was asking recently how therapy is going and if I'm figuring out the underlying causes of my eating disorder.  Unfortunately I don't think I will ever find the full answer.  This is not out of lack of trying by working through my emotions and talking about my past and connecting dots.  Eating disorders are so complex.  I have some answers, but there is so much more I haven't uncovered.

Words are very powerful.  They can build you up or tear you down.  People can be cruel and out of malice say hurtful things.  Some might say it's your choice if you take it to heart, but I don't quite agree.  It's like telling someone who is depressed to just think of something happy.  It's not that easy.  Our brains are powerful and yet they are not light switches.  

When the hurtful words are coming from my own mind then I feel out of control and crazy.  I can play a negative tape in my head for hours and feel physical pain from it and I can't stop.  I need help to stop it.  That's where my support comes into play.  Recently I was viewing pictures of myself and had to ask a friend if I looked big.  There's a part of me that knows the answer is no, but my eyes see something different.  I needed to hear it from someone else since I'm not a trustworthy source.

Silence can also be hurtful.  Even if there's a valid reason for not receiving a response from a friend, my mind can twist it and make it so that they must hate me, that I've done something wrong.  I have to talk myself down a lot.  I have two sides at war: one that is screaming at me how terrible I am and the other trying to calm my mind and think rationally.  This is very tiring.  

Fighting ED is tiring.  I'm in limbo trying to figure out if recovery is possible.  Why do some recover and others die trying?  What is so different about us all?  Do some believe in God and pray and believe He helps them?  Do some just give up because they have no fight left?  Or does it come down to support systems and how good your insurance coverage is?  

What is the lesson I'm supposed to be learning from all of this?  I believe things happen for a reason.  But what is the reason for my eating disorder or why I'm still alive while others have died?

Although I'm tired and feel defeated, I'm not a quitter.  This is good and bad because I'm still fighting for my life...and I'm still fighting to destroy it.  I'm not ready to let go of ED completely, although I've been able to keep some distance and I have to remind myself I'm in a better place compared to last year.

Choose your words wisely, not only to people around you, but especially to yourself.  If you have trouble with that like me, write down five things you are grateful for.  It can be anything.  I might say I'm grateful for my parents' dogs and a little smile creeps on my face as I remember how silly they can be.  That's important because for that moment I wasn't thinking anything destructive.  Or let yourself be vulnerable and find a trustworthy person to talk to.  I'm sure they have wonderful words for you and one day soon you will believe them.