every tear's a waterfall

I made a momentous decision last week. I decided that enough was enough with regard to my binge eating and weight gain and have re-started my healthy eating and weight removal journey. I feel self-conscious and triggery talking about it, knowing that a number of my friends in the madosphere are dealing with eating disorders and the like. But it had to be done, guys.

Three and a half years ago I paid a LOT of money to have weight loss surgery and while I lost weight (50kg/100 pounds), I've since regained a significant amount. My bingeing is out of control. I am obsessed with junk food. I eat for comfort, boredom, relaxation. These things are not healthy, and I've kind of let them go while I worked on some mental health issues.

Now I'm relatively stable, mentally, I am hoping to find the wherewithall to tackle my eating.

I've restarted my other blog, renaming it Borderline Lil's Losing Weight. Feel free to visit over there www.lastchancelil.blogspot.com or not. I won't be offended!

I am on meal replacement shakes/bars at the moment, which is a medical intervention for obesity and only supposed to be used under supervision. It's a very low calorie (approx 800 cal per day) diet, with the only solid food I'm eating being two cups of low starch vegies per day. So far (this is day six) it's going okay. There's an element of relief...I HATE my addiction to food, my obsessive behaviour towards it, so I'm glad to have the decision making on my meals taken away for now. Reintroducing food, in 12 weeks, will be a challenge I'm sure.

I'm planning to go back for a visit to my weight loss surgeon Gorgeous Jon to see if I need revision of my surgery, or how he can help me otherwise.

I'm fairly certain I have stretched out my reduced stomach, and whether this can be fixed or not, I've no idea. The meal replacement diet will help that, I hope. And I have completely removed junk food and takeaway from my life for now, even though in the end I hope to occasionally be able to enjoy it without going to extremes.

I have also made an appointment with a binge eating specialist, who does hypnotherapy and NLP (neuro-linguistic programming). I've ordered a binge eating book from the internet which is recommended by a lot of doctors and pdocs - it's based in CBT and has a complete programme that goes with it.

What's funny is that I KNOW THIS IS BPD-esque ALL OR NOTHING THINKING!!! But I've decided to USE the all or nothing extreme behaviour in my favour for once, and do something proactive. I'm trying to positively channel my obsessiveness into weight loss and healthy eating.

This is just an update, and I don't imagine I will talk much on this blog about the health plan. I am conscious of my ED friends and their issues, and would never want to negatively affect them/you. But I wanted to share this big change with my friends! And I hope you will all wish me luck (-:

forever is a long, long time when you lost your way

Today's post title is from my favourite Guitar Hero song "Lasso" by Phoenix. My roommate Michelle bought a Nintendo Wii a few weeks back and it's really been more fun that I imagined. I am especially loving the music games, as I am a frustrated karaoke queen, and am a lot better on guitar than I thought I'd be. It's nice just to kick back and have fun with Michelle anyway. We realised yesterday that we've been living in our skanky Juliette Lewis duplex for a year now -- and so much has changed during that time. We were both single back then, and now are seeing really great guys, and we were both in a more precarious mental state than we are (mostly!) now. I think living there has been good for me, she definitely inspired me to start internet dating and look how well THAT turned out.

Neil and I are still blissing out on each other and having a lot of fun. We've been extremely social lately, having had two weddings, a hen's/buck's night and a 40th birthday to go to. They were all his friends, of whom he has many, but I'm starting to feel like I fit in with them and they're all pretty welcoming. Neil also rocks because he bought me some new clothes to wear for all these outings as I was feeling a bit "blah" about my wardrobe. He earns a lot more than me, but I still felt uncomfortable about him spending money on me... His previous girlfriend scored a new car from him, as well as a stack of other stuff she didn't deserve (miaow! LOL) and I don't want to be perceived like her. She was very materialistic, from what I can gather. My oldest friend once worked with this girl (as well as with Neil) and she doesn't have a high opinion of her. I think that my struggle to be accepted by Neil's 19 year-old son is proving to be difficult partly because of the last girlfriend.

Although work, family, friends and love life seem to be stable and nice, there are still more moments of panic/black-hole-ness than I would like. I guess it's called recovery for a reason, not "all-better-now". I had to take a Valium at work the other day, for the first time in months, which certainly worked and helped chill me out for the day so I could get through it. But I was disappointed that my regular medication, and the mental effort I am expending on "being normal", wasn't sufficient to keep the nasty away. I had bad PMT as well this month, which is common but annoying. It makes me irritable and shaky as well as the physical aches, cramps and tiredness. Neil knows about most of my mental history, and Doc A, and the meds, but I try not to always be harping on about it. He lost two close family members to suicide, and I feel so damnably guilty and selfish whenever I want to whinge about my low mood. Being with Neil has definitely shown me another side to mental illness, the survivor's side, and Michelle and I often have to adapt our conversation or anecdotes out of respect for his experience. We have both attempted suicide, and have regular suicide ideation (as Doc A would say), but try not to express it when Neil is around. He knows I have been down that road, but I figure he doesn't need reminding of it.

All in all, life is wonderful yet comes with its own minor pitfalls. I'm navigating them...so far... Being around someone kind and loving definitely helps, even though it adds a social pressure to my life in some ways. I am worried about my eating though, and my consequent weight issues. Neil loves his food, and also loves shopping, and those two things are high on my binge-list. I have to try and maintain the weight loss I achieved through my weight loss surgery three years ago, even if I can't manage to lose the rest of the excess weight. I don't want a repeat of the Mr Ex scenario where we both gained 50kg while we were together. No sir, no way.

should be hoping but I can't stop thinking

No matter how much I think I've changed, or "recovered", there's always the Big Dark hovering the background waiting to devour. Lately it's been creeping around making its evil presence felt in subtle ways. A couple of episodes of binge eating. Some temper tantrums. Shortness of breath, tightness of chest. Whether it can be blamed on PMS or the medication change is something that will come to light in time, but the overall negativity of mood at the moment is scaring me shitless. Housemate Michelle said to me last night "What's your problem, you've got a job, somewhere to live, a boyfriend..." and although it was said entirely in jest, she really has a point. Outwardly, there is no reason for my uneasy feeling. No external trigger for these nerves that are starting to stretch out like barbed wire.

I am considering going back on the antipsychotic, Solian. I definitely wonder if the binge eating is related to going off the meds, as one of the main reasons for Doc A prescribing it was to help with my eating. I've started "inhaling" food again, instead of maintaining mindfulness and enjoying food in a relaxed and slow way. I ate a huge bag of potato chips in less than half an hour on Monday, and then polished off a number of chocolate bars. It reminded me of the bad old days before my weight loss surgery when I would regularly binge like that. I have no idea what triggered it, if anything. Although there have been some nasty thoughts hovering around lately.

As much as I am happy and in love, and definitely feel "loved", part of me wonders when it will all start to go bad. When Neil will see how pathetic and ugly I am, when he will realise the huge mistake he's made, when he will run away and never look back. It's a constant struggle to keep these stupid, pointless, damaging, groundless fears at bay. If a short time passes when we don't have sex, I think "It's the beginning of the end, he's gone off me already." If he doesn't text me until lunchtime I think "Remember the beginning of our relationship, when the first thing he did every morning was text?" Who am I to second guess and question such a decent and honest man?? I don't deserve him if I'm going to act in such a self-destructive way.

One of the things I constantly say, and believe, is that relapse is part of recovery. I suppose this is one of those moments of relapse, when old habits and thought patterns threaten to sabotage my current happiness. I'm trying so hard not to be terrified that the Cymbalta is losing effectiveness, and that another breakdown is imminent. So far I am managing to keep up at work, and still show a fairly cheerful front to Neil and everyone else. The Big Crazy is still held at bay, which is something positive I suppose. While I maintain control, and have insight, I have hope that I will get through this time of darkness.

*Post title is from This Woman's Work (Kate Bush) - melancholy as suits my mood...

SNAFU

After five weeks of solid performance at my new job, I had a truly crappy day. In the scheme of things, it's not that bad. No-one got fired. No-one got shouted at. No-one cried (though I felt like it). I've been working on a couple of graphic design jobs, which is not what I was hired to do and something I at which I am only self-taught, and I think I took on more than I should have. After printing 500 full-colour copies of one of the forms, a major error was noticed (too few boxes in the credit card payment section) and we had to reprint them. I remind you, the place I work is a CHARITY and can barely afford to print the darn things once, let alone TWICE. It was a stupid mistake, and the two bosses had signed off on the form without noticing, so maybe I shouldn't be beating myself up quite as badly as I am...

But there you have it, the self-loathing swings into action to replace the self-aggrandisement. Even though I have resisted my usual urge to show off and big note myself around the office, secretly I was feeling quite superior and patting myself on the back for my amazing coping skills. Ha! Life always knows how to level me out... Afterwards, all I wanted to do was eat. I needed junk food, stat, to block out the surprise/shock of my fellow workers that I, Ms Perfect Superwoman, had made a mistake. To medicate the intense embarrassment and shame that reminded me I was just the same fuckup I have been in every other job/relationship/situation/etc. With concentration, and some Distress Tolerance skills, I managed to chill out and not run to the chicken and fries emporium across the street. I also managed to realise I was over-reacting (dare I say it...BPD-style catastrophising?), and reminded myself I was human, not a piece of useless crap. It was a big lesson, and let's face it, that's where the true learning and recovery starts. But man, it sucked. I offered to pay for the extra printing (which was appreciated but not accepted) and made a vow to check and re-check all the other graphic design work I'm doing.

A couple of people said to me afterwards that they were relieved that I showed I wasn't superwoman. The newest employee (apart from me) said she'd felt intimidated because I was picking everything up so quickly! Sometimes I am stunned that the world sees the Happy & Capable Lil facade and believes it... 'cause it feels like the Big Crazy is so close to the surface that everyone on earth can see it.

PS: If you're that way inclined, please send prayers and/or love to Coyote & Juno. Poor kitteh is not well - feel better soon Juno xxx

True Confessions of A Shopaholic

I'm Lil and I'm a shopaholic. Not one of the cute and stylish shopaholics like you see in the movies. It's rare to find me with anything designer, and being a 250 pound-plus woman means that teetering high heel shoes are not something I would ever buy. But nonetheless, one of my main binge impulses is to overspend. I may never have owned a pair of Jimmy Choos but I have in the past owned 7 pairs of Crocs in one season. In every colour and style imaginable. Now, even I know there are very limited occasions when it's appropriate to wear Crocs...

One of the difficulties I've had in getting an official diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder is what I perceive to be the "inanity" of my impulses. Rather than starve or binge/purge, I like to eat. Too much. Too often. With detrimental effect on my health. Rather than sleep with a different man each night, I like to go shopping. Too much, Too often. With detrimental effect on my credit rating. Rather than cut myself, I like to pluck my eyebrows. Too much. Too often. With detrimental effect on my facial expressions LOL. I know intellectually that having the impulse control problem is the illness, not WHAT I do with the impulse. I'm not "less" BPD because I abuse carbs instead of cocaine. It's the fact that I use or abuse anything in an attempt to regulate my emotions or subvert unpleasant feelings.

Sometimes I think my personal choices make it hard to differentiate between "benign" behaviours and "dangerous" behaviours - after all, everybody has to buy things and everybody needs to eat food. But I've always known that what a non-BPD considered shopping or eating did not compare to the sheer volume and velocity of my consumption of both. The food thing is for another day, another post (and probably my other blog). But in the last few days I've found the spending demon to be rearing its ugly head again, and hopefully it will help me to blog it out! Although I've been pretty much housebound, since Wednesday I've managed to spend $200 or thereabouts - Ebay has a LOT to answer for. CDs, DVDs, clothes, shoes, electrical goods, books, books, books...these are my passions and Ebay means I don't even have to shower or dress or leave the house.

My Ebay addiction started in 2003 when I was severely agoraphobic and could barely leave the house. I was out of work for 18 months, supported by Mr Ex, and as a comfort I started obsessively collecting memorabilia from one of my favourite TV shows. These purchases (sometimes $300 a week on crazy things like magazine clippings, yoyos, photos, props from the show) were in addition to my existing credit card and store card debt, and in conjunction with me and Mr Ex having spent $30,000 profit we made selling our house (mostly on an overseas trip). Stupid, reckless decisions - I take the blame entirely as Mr Ex was floundering, dealing with an increasingly mental wife whose only joy was in buying junk and eating (hence the weight gain of 60 pounds during this time).

Eventually I started on Zoloft, had some great counselling and EFT and returned to work. Unfortunately, I worked in Australia's most fabulous department store so the shopping was not curtailed - my next obsession was Barbies (I worked in the toy section), but I also bought a lot of linen, clothing, perfume, jewellery, CDs, and yep books. I spent almost all of what I earned, and as well had spare time to browse other stores in the mall and spent a huge amount of money on junkfood ($30-40 some days). Mr Ex and I had to get a consolidation loan to close out all our store cards and credit cards (I think I maxed out at 6, Mr Ex had a few of his own - and this while we were both barely earning minimum wage). It didn't help, as soon as we had them paid out by the loan we put the limits up again and went on three interstate trips we couldn't afford. You see, it's not just buying things, with me it's general misuse of money. I feel joyous and happy and briefly "okay" when I'm spending money, and holidays are even better because they fill the "obsession" gap as well - planning them becomes my focus and I obsessively research and plan every detail.

Fast forward to now, and my credit rating is so bad I have been knocked back for even the smallest of credit card limits. I can't qualify for a new mobile phone contract unless I switch to prepaid. I have to have one of those VISA Debit cards, which is attached to my savings account - so if there's no money, there's no buying. It's a smart idea, and one that is just what I deserve after the binges I've had, but crikey it's embarrassing. Other people my age have assets (cars, houses, bikes, stereos, tvs), whereas I have a PC that I rent and people's secondhand electronic castoffs. I don't have the excuse of alcohol or drugs having consumed all my money. I don't have kids I'm putting through private school. I don't have ANYTHING to show for all those thousands and thousands of dollars I spent (and some I stole to spend, but that's not for discussion here). The food went to my hips, and then took $18,000 of my superannuation (retirement fund) in weight loss surgery to shed. The books have been read and reread (and sometimes exchanged for others), the TV show memorabilia is hidden in boxes (yes, plural) in my closet so I don't have to face the shame. These days, after binges I re-sell what I can on Ebay. And if I feel I can't distract myself from shopping/spending binges I try and go to thrift stores and dollar stores.

So there you have it. My name is Lil and I just LOVE to shop, in person or online. I love the rush, I crave the feelings of bags heavy in my hands, I love the smell of new stuff. I love the potential that each new "thing" has for developing my latest image or obsession. Combined with a new "hyperattachment"/crush, and the desire to be like them, or have them love me, shopping is the ultimate high. But, like all impulses, the rush is fleeting and afterwards I'm left with the horrible darkness again, except with the added feelings of guilt, fear (of being bankrupt, creditors, etc) and the realisation that I will never wear or use a large percentage of what I've bought. So this is why I know that ordering a few things on Ebay is not just that. I have to be vigilant, and watch out for warning signs - especially when I can recognise my mood is low and my stressors are high. Which is now.

This Is What Today Feels Like

The last few days have been heading downhill. For a start, I'm getting closer to the dreaded luteal phase of my cycle, which triggers the PMDD symptoms. I've been thinking I should probably increase my fluoxetine dose to 20mg, especially as I have the added stressor of starting my new job next week. The timing sucks.

I wish I didn't have to wait so long before starting work. At first, I thought it was a great opportunity to get organised -- now, I remember how much of an enemy anticipation can be. With anticipation comes anxiety, uncertainty, "what if" scenarios, and an added need to practise my still fledgling CBT skills. I was supposed to start with my new psychologist MH this week. Although I waited 6 weeks for the appointment I cancelled at the last minute...I wouldn't have been able to continue with the appointments as they were all scheduled for work hours (made the appts while I was out of work), so I have re-scheduled the entire series of appointments for after work. The first one isn't until June 2nd, at least by then I will have some idea of my work circumstances and any issues that may have arisen there -- which I can work out in CBT with the new therapist. Still seeing Dr A once a week or every two weeks, he has one day per week when he works late so it can be hard to get the appointments. All in all, this says to me "Am I doing the right thing going back to work?" It's so much easier to see doctors, do homework, get prescriptions, etc, etc without having to be somewhere every day from 7:30 - 3:45pm.

I know, I know...all that is just an excuse and OF COURSE I can organise myself and get everything done even while I'm working full-time. I'm allowing practical concerns to mask the fact that I am flatout gut-twistingly terrified of going back to work. The last few days I have gone back to the safety and santuary of my bed, and back-to-back episodes of Buffy and NCIS. I've been mindlessly eating chips and bread and cookies, desperately lamenting the fact that I've given up my Diet Coke habit, and I've spent $200 on crap on Ebay. It's hardly the end of the world, or even the beginning of a breakdown, but these are warning signs.

So, I am going to take more Prozac for the next 10 days, and try to get out and exercise. I need to start this new job in a better frame of mind than the one I'm in today, and the only way that will change is if I MAKE it change. The bottom line is, my illness is never going to go away -- the only thing that is negotiable is how well I can manage it.

Once I Was Overweight

This is something I posted over at my WLS blog, but wanted to capture it here, also.

Once I was Overweight. It was 1992. I'm almost five foot ten and I weighed about 80kg (175 pounds).

After that, about 4 years later, I moved into the Obese category, weighing about 95kg (209).

Eventually, after the Heartbreak of 1997 and the Doomed Marriage of 2000, I qualified for the Super Morbid Obese category, and let me tell you not just any old fat chick gets that label. My BMI was 54, and I weighed around 170kg (374).

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was the second heaviest person in my class. It was 1986 and I was 16 years old, almost at the height I am now (five nine and a half). I weighed 64kg. Smack bang in the middle of the Healthy Weight category. I'll say it again - I was the second heaviest person in my class, including boys. Every day I was told I was fat, ugly, slow and was always the last person chosen for sports.

No wonder I have such a screwed-up body image. No wonder I constantly question whether it's even worth all this money (cost of my weight loss surgery =$18,000) and effort to get to my new goal weight of 80kg, which will see me still Overweight. I need to find a way to disconnect from the numbers, but how do I measure my "success" if not through BMI points, clothing sizes, centimetres and kilos? Sure, there are a number of things I can do comfortably now that I couldn't 50kg ago. I'm not disputing the fact that I've lost weight and gained health and fitness. But basically, I've hated my body since I was 10 years old, no matter what number was attached to it. And lots of other people have hated it too, and have told me so.

Sadly, I find myself still hating my body, still lamenting its ugly lumpen state and scarring. Even worse, now I've lost a lot more weight from my top half than my bottom bits - where I was once an "even" size 26, I'm now 20-22 in pants and 16-18 in tops. Nothing fits. I'm uncomfortable all the time! In my former-life as Super Morbid Obese girl I was comfy in track pants and lycra.

I would never want to go back. But sometimes I wonder WHEN or IF I will be able to learn how to value my body instead of viewing it as my enemy.

The Reinvented Self

The week continues on it's merry (somewhat TOO merry perhaps?) way. Sweeping the patio, walking the dog, cooking, cleaning, job interviews. It's all go at the L Ranch. There's a small and hellishly contrary part of my brain that is fighting it, still. I am trying to resist the inevitable analysis...is this energetic and cheerful person actually ME? Is it "normal" for me to feel hopeful, positive and motivated, all in one day? Is this one of those SSRI-related manias I've heard so much about? All I can do is be vigilant and document any out-of-character behaviours.

The medication is also supposed to have a positive effect on impulse behaviours; sadly so far my trilogy of tragedy (derm, trich, binge) are still firmly in place. But I have been able to go three or four days without harming in these ways, so I think the CBT is helping there. I am trying to distract myself and find other outlets. This week I started drawing, which I've always wanted to try - bought one of those "Drawing For Dummies" type books and so far I'm loving it. I am typically BPD in that I adore new hobbies haha!

Dr A has written a referral for me to have an MRI - apparently lupus/SLE can cause brain lesions and other nervous systems problems, and in 10% of lupus patients the disease causes personality disorders, depression and/or psychosis... Um, maybe that's something I would have found useful to know 5 years ago? Twenty years ago?? I seriously doubt that my lupus has impacted upon or caused my mental illness. Even if it has, the treatment (for the vasculitis or lesions) is masses of corticosteroids, which I refuse to take. But the knowledge will be powerful, just the same. I can't believe that the rheumotologist, haematologist, allergy specialist and previous psychiatrists have never mentioned an MRI...

Is It Wicked Not To Care

Lyrics
Is it wicked not to care when they say that you’re mistaken
Thinking hopes and lots of dreams that arent there?
Is it wicked not to care when you’ve wasted many hours
Talking endlessly to anyone that’s there?

I know the truth awaits me
But still I hesitate because of fear

Skipping tickets making rhymes
Is that all that you believe in?
Wearing rags to make you pretty by design
Rusting armour for effect
It’s not fun to watch the rust grow
For it will all be over when youre dead

Counting acts and clutching thoughts
By the river where the moss grows
Over rocks the water running all the time
Is it wicked when you smile even though you feel like crying
Even though you could be sick at any time?

But if there was a sequel
Would you love me as an equal?
Would you love me till I’m dead

Instrumental

If there was a sequel would you love me like an equal?
Would you love me till I’m dead
And if there was a sequel
Would you love me as an equal?
Would you love me till I’m dead
Or is there someone else instead?


I've had a day of strangeness, good and bad. I have been trying to listen to some peppy music, which I do have on my ipod contrary to popular belief! But I keep coming back to Belle & Sebastian, who seem to capture the essence of me and my nutso life. I couldn't decide whether to put Wicked Not To Care on today's post or I'm A Cuckoo (one of my other favourites). The film clip for Wicked Not To Care is so beautiful, reminds me of the film Breathless which I relate to in all my usual high-strung ways haha!

I went for a job this morning...even though I have been ordered on to disability for at least 4-6 weeks on the proviso that I would be returning to my previous job in admin/telecommunications. I clearly have no idea what I am doing!! I applied for it in the middle of the night over the weekend (damn internet job sites), having realised fully, for the first time, that I really really really really really don't think I can go back to my old workplace. Well, I know I physically COULD. But I don't WANT to, and I think recovery and learning CBT/DBT and future therapy will all be easier with a "blank canvas". My breakdown during Dec and Jan was pretty ugly. Made me some damn fine enemies...even though I know people will have new crap to gossip about now, and that true friends will have forgiven and been understanding, in the end I don't know or trust anyone there. For the entire year I've worked there I've been over-medicated and therefore blunted beyond belief, or (latterly) unmedicated and hypomanic. I don't know who I am. Or where I'm going. Kind of the Borderline Personality Disorder meme HAHA. But I know that the journey to self seems waaaay more appealing without the knowing looks, the avoidance and the jokes about crying in the bathroom. Two people I "hyper-attached" to (my way of describing the BPD "As If" bonding) are now not speaking to me, and are very attached to each other actually. Which caused me a ***major*** freakout. I would gladly pay money to not have to see those two again. Even weighing up the nice attitude my bosses have had about my breakdown, and the fact that I know my job and like it, and I'm good at it, I truly think I might need to find a different job.

The job I went for today is part-time, and located in a nice area of town (unlike my current job which shares its block with two brothels, a pub and a drug addiction centre). I would have enough money to live on, but enough time off to go to the shrink, the gym and do my homework. The horrifying thought occured to me today, though, after I had been all "high-functioning" and wowed them in the interview, that they may ring my current boss for a reference. WTF will she say?? I have been on the verge of vomiting all afternoon just IMAGINING that conversation. I would dearly love to be upfront and disclosing about my illness, but let's face it, we all know it can be hard enough out there in the job market without adding all my non-academic acronyms. BA = OK. BPD = Not So Much.

I couldn't fight my impulses once I got my freak on, went shopping with my mom's atm card (what am I, 12?????) and bought underwear, hair colour, books, magazines, a dress and two pairs of pants. I only had the keycard for my stupid glasses, which I didn't even get to be tested for on account of being mental and going on a job interview... My mom will be understanding and pitying of my shopaholic binge. Why does that just make it WORSE??

A difficult day. Why is it so damn HOT? It's supposed to be Autumn.