Just Plain Exhausted

I sleep a lot anymore.  It just seems easier to sleep then to put energy towards actually living life.  I get so exhausted by going out and doing things.  I get so emotionally exhausted by having to make conversation.  I don't spend time with a lot of people.  I have a handful of close friends that I spend time with.  These close friends I know care about me and enjoy spending time with me.  I don't really understand why they like spending time with me.  I don't see myself as someone others would want to spend time with.  Yes, I know that is a negative statement but I don't really like spending time with myself so I wonder why anyone else would want to spend time with me.
That is telling isn't it?  The fact that spending time by myself is so difficult for me and yet I spend a majority of my time alone, by myself.  It's not that I hate myself.  It's not that I don't think I'm a cool person.  It's that I have such a lack of motivation to want to do anything.  And yes, I do mean ANYTHING.  The last time I took a shower was on Thursday.  Today is Sunday and I could really care less if I showered today.  It's not that I don't want to be clean.  It's not that I don't know that it wouldn't feel amazing to take a hot shower.  It's that I think, "what is the point?  I'm going to have to take another shower tomorrow."  And for some reason that thought in itself exhausts me.
Exhaustion seems to run my life right now.  Hence, why I rarely do anything.  And yes I mean, rarely do anything.
I've had this entire weekend off.  My roommate has been gone this entire weekend.  I have had the whole house to myself.  I have had the chance to do yoga and zumba in the living room.  I have had the chance to invite friends over for a movie night.  I have had the chance to clean my room and make it feel more like my bedroom rather than just a room I sleep in.  But I've done none of that.  I have opted to sit in the living room filling my brain with tv and movies.  It's easier on me mentally to be fed what to think then to face the reality of what it is I'm actually dealing with.
I'm dealing with depression.  Medically diagnosed severe clinical depression.  This is no surprise to those of you who have followed my blog or my life.  (I still think it odd that there are people who are interested enough in me to read about my life.)  What really confuses me is I have no idea why the depression is harder to deal with lately.  Why it has become a more ruling factor over my life.
I don't want it to be this way.  I do not want to spend the rest of my life fighting this blasted disease.  Just like I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting my eating disorder.  And I'm struggling with both lately.
I have gained a lot of weight these past two years.  I want to live a healthy life.  I want to be active and feel good about running up a flight of stairs.  I want to embrace the beautiful woman that I am instead of constantly shunning away from the person I could be.
The problem is, I don't know where to start.  I feel like I'm stuck at the end of recovery and the beginning of healing.  I've overcome what I thought was the most difficult part only now to realize that perhaps the most difficult part is finally dealing with those things that keep me in pain.
I know that people will read this and think "oh jeez Tamara, stop feeling so sorry for yourself.  You have a great life and are very lucky."  I am not denying that.  I do have what appears to be a good life.  What I don't have is the energy to understand how to move forward from being in pain to embracing life again and all that I used to love to do.
So I sit.  And I think.  Even when being fed the stream of media, my brain still thinks.  Whether I want it to or not, my brain still thinks.  And it ponders how to get out of this depression.  That constant thinking is what exhausts me so much.  The ever persistant thought process of ignoring the pain and masking it for others.
That's why I sleep a lot.  Well, that's why I try to sleep a lot.  The never ending thinking tends to hamper the ability to even do that.  
It's exhausting, I tell you.  Just plain exhausting.

sigh

Breakfast, you unappealing little thing...

Breakfast.  It is the one meal I have always eaten.  Through the eating disorder and through the stress and through all the strife, it is the one meal I never allowed myself to skip.  Granted sometimes breakfast was only one little old egg white, but I still ate it.  I prided myself on eating breakfast.  It was what kept me thinking "I don't have an eating disorder" for as long as I did. 

Lately though I have no interest in breakfast.  I'm not hungry for it.  Nothing sounds good.  Nothing tastes good.  Consuming anything I cook or make for myself for breakfast is difficult at best.  Most days it is a struggle to finish it.  I eat a few bites, put my fork down and I don't want it eat anymore of it.  Sometimes I try to finish it, sometimes I don't and sometimes I actually do finish it.  The latter is the rarity anymore. 

At first I became very concerned with the fact that I wasn't interested in breakfast anymore.  "Am I regressing to old patterns?"  Well, no I'm not. I've always eaten breakfast.  "Am I going to starve myself?"  No, because I am eating other meals.  "Am I heading back down the road of having an active eating disorder."  My answer to that one was, "I don't know."  Which scares the hell out of me.

I have assured everyone I know that this lack of interest in breakfast is not serious and not related to an eating disorder at all.  But honestly, I'm not so sure.  I have had a ton of stress enter my life these last few months.  The kind of stress like I've never faced in my before.  Divorce, moving several times, unknowingly living with a drug dealer, being with out home and not having a source of income.  Any of those alone can cause stress.  I look at all of them together and wonder how I haven't had a mental breakdown. 

That is why I wonder if ED is trying to use this mega stress overload as a way to grip me back into his clutches. I've had so much stress lately that perhaps I am too weak to have the strength to keep ED at bay.  I know in my heart of hearts that I don't want to go down that road again.  But I never intended to go down that road in the first place. 

Here is what I do know.  I have fabulous friends.  In fact, I have more people that care about me than I ever thought possible.  So I know I have friends to lean on.  I have the tools now to defeat this before it gets too big.  And I have the knowledge of my past and what it was like for me to ever want to go there again. 

And I know this as well.  I am aware of what is going on right now.  I am aware that I want to skip meals.  I am aware that nothing tastes good anymore.  (that has always been the sure fire way for me to tell when it's kicking in.)  When food starts to taste that saw dust I know I need to wake up and ask for help.

Here's the thing to all my friends reading this who may be concerned.  I am very open about this disease.  So your comments, questions and thoughts are welcomed.  Please feel free to share whatever it is you feel like sharing with me.  I just ask that you remain respectful and kind in your comments.  I'm posting this more as an accountability thing on my part than to alarm any of you.

Now, off to find lunch.  I just hope it doesn't taste like saw dust. 

From Sound to Music

Today is one of those days where I really want to write something extremely profound and thoughtful and yet nothing is coming into my brain that seems worthy to share.  Which, of course, is such a silly thought because I know that I have many worthy thoughts to share.  So I think what I will share today is that I am starting to actively listen to music again.  For about 10 years I chose not to listen to music.  I would have silence in the car.  I would have silence while playing around on the internet, or cooking or just hanging out.  I couldn't handle having the additional noise. 

I suppose I couldn't handle all the additional noise because I already had enough noise in my head to begin with.  I didn't need to add to all the crazy that was living in my head. 

But now that I don't have all that crazy up in my head.  Well, okay, let's be honest, I still have crazy in my head.  I mean, I wouldn't be me without some level of crazy.  But I am no longer bordering on insane.  I no longer have voices shouting at me in my head.  I no longer have constant static blazing through my brain.

So now when there is silence, it truly is silence.  Not that I have a problem with silence.  I'm totally fine with being lost in my own thoughts.  However, what I am enjoying is discovering music and finding out what kind of music I like.

My life has gone from one of just constant noise to one filled with the beautiful sound of music. 

So, my friends, what musical artists do you enjoy?  Share with me!  I'd love to discover more!

For My Family and Friends

I can't believe that I haven't written in a post for over 6 months.  I must apologize for not doing a better job of keeping up this blog.  I think I allowed it to be on the back burner for awhile because I've been going through some personal changes.

It has been 3 years and 3 months since I checked myself into the hospital for recovery from my eating disorder.  I really should say that it has been that long since I've made the choice to live.  I know that statement may seem dramatic to many of you.  I mean, who wouldn't choose to live, right?  However, for anyone who has ever grappled with the trap that is depression/eating disorder, it is a legitimate choice that one must make before heading into recovery.  And I must say that I am extremely thankful for choosing to live.  I am elated to report to the world that I am no longer in recovery.  I am now fully recovered.

So, enough about the past.  Onward to the future.

What I am most excited about this new phase of my life is learning and discovering who I am.  For so many years, for as long as I can remember actually, I have followed the thoughts of others.

"Oh, you like Nirvana?  Yeah, me too!"
"Yeah, that presidential candidate is a total fool.  I agree with you."
"No, I don't like that lipstick either."
"Nah, I don't want to live downtown either."

I could go on and on but I digress.

I am starting to discover what it is I do like.  I like rain.  I do not like hot weather and no ac.  I love clothes.  I don't like shopping.  I love dogs, cats and creatures of all sorts.  I do not like pickles.  I do not like driving in traffic but I love driving.  I don't like mayonnaise or homemade sandwiches.  I love cake but not icing.  I love Velveeta, even though I know it is horribly processed.  I adore long conversations with friends while sitting around a bar and drinking.  I do not like blatant rudeness.  I am selfish and at times selfless.  I think charity is great.  I think hand outs are crap.

Once again I could go on and on.

My basic point is that I am ready to discover who I am.  I am ready to face life, no not face it, run towards it, embracing every mistake, choice and experience that comes my way.  I will always listen to the advice of my friends and family but I may not agree with you or listen to you.  And that is okay.  I am eager to live a life filled with regrets, or maybe none at all.  I am thrilled to be able to call myself an artist and will never shirk from what others think of me when I state that I am.

So, friends and family, I ask for your patience.  I ask for you to understand that I am going to be fully living life from now on.  I may make decisions that you do not agree with.  I may make decisions that you think are the result of a conversation we had.  All of this is okay.  Please know though, that any decision I make is mine to make and mine alone.  I will confer with those who may affected by my decisions but my decisions are still mine to make. 

I cannot express to you, my loved ones, just how excited I am about the life that is ahead for me.  Please understand that I am going through a growing spell equivalent to an early 20something and provide me love, understanding and support.  Because this life that I have ahead of me is something that I'm grabbing by the horns.  And I'm not letting go.

Two and a Half Years

It has been two and a half years since I graduated out of the hospital for recovery from an eating disorder.  Two and a half years.  Some days it seems as if the time has flown by.  Other days it feels like it has taken a century for me to make it this far.  With all the work I've done to heal myself, two and a half years later, I'm still in recovery.  I no longer restrict myself from eating food but ED still has power over me because even though I don't restrict I've realized recently that my view towards food hasn't really changed much.  I still use food as punishment or reward.  Mostly as a punishment.
I in no way eat a balanced diet of fruit, vegetables, lean proteins, carbs and fats.  Processed food seems to be what I crave nowadays.  Mostly because it's easy and I don't have to expend too much energy into thinking about what I'm eating.  Which in turn actually causes me to over think the negative aspects of what the food I'm eating is doing to my body.

I thought that by not really thinking about what was being put into my body that I would be able to get over being obsessed about food.  Looks like I was wrong.  I'm still inherently obsessed with food. But instead of being obsessed with restricting myself from it I'm obsessed with the next thing I will put into my mouth.  Lately I seem to crave salty, carb rich, fatty foods.  Not that there is anything wrong with eating those types of foods but in no way does a diet rich in those foods create a healthy person.

The catch though, so it seems, is that my mind is still stuck in the idea that if I don't eat these types of foods then I am restricting myself from "normal eating".  Normal eating is my ultimate goal.  I truly want to be able to look at a food and see it as food and base my wanting to eat it from if it is sounds good, not if I should eat it or not.  Sound confusing?  Yeah, it pretty much is.

I'm reading a book by Jenni Schafer called "Goodbye Ed, Hello Me".  It's about reclaiming your life back from an eating disorder and reach the ultimate goal of being recovered, not in recovery. Ms. Schafer states in her book, as long as I keep giving ED power I will still be in recovery.  I'm stuck right now in that weird place of not wanting to give ED power but not knowing how to reclaim my power back.

Like I said, it's been two and a half years since I graduated from the hospital program.  I thought I would be further along in my journey to being fully recovered.  But I'm not.  I'm where I am, which is, I guess, exactly where I am suppose to be in my recovery.  But not for long.  I don't want to be in recovery anymore.  I want to be recovered.

There is so much that I want to do that it is a little scary at times.  I don't necessarily have the energy to do all I want to do right now, because, well, I'm still not fueling my soul in a healthy way.  But I've reached my limit of playing the victim of ED having this power over me.  I think that is the basic point that is frustrating me.  I'm still playing the victim to ED.  I don't want to play the victim anymore.  I want to just play.  I want to explore life without this following me around like a dark stormy cloud.  I want to be able to just live.  Not live with an eating disorder.

It's taken me two and a half years to make it this far.  I wonder where I'll be in two and a half more years?

What defines me? Not a number!

I weighed myself the other day.  It has been two and a half years since I've known the # of what I weigh.  And now that I know that number I don't really know what to make of it.  I've known for quite a while now that I've gained weight since leaving treatment.  I didn't need a scale to tell me that.  I don't need some foreign abstract number to tell me the obvious in life.
Yet, to be honest, when I saw that number I didn't feel sad, I didn't feel hatred towards myself and I didn't immediately fall to pieces.  What I did feel surprised me because I felt indifferent.  I didn't feel nothing, I just didn't really care what the scale said one way or another.  I didn't sit down and automatically start calculating the amount of weight that I've gained, in fact I still haven't and most likely won't.
It is what it is.  Just a number that has nothing to do with who I am as a person.  It has nothing to do with my health and well being.  It has nothing to do with who I am and what I can contribute to society.
Now let me be clear on something.  It's not as if I'm completely happy with how I look.  I think that the world we live in has caused it to be extremely difficult to be happy with yourself.  (But I'll save that conversation for another day.)  I've wanted to start losing weight once I realized I was gaining weight.  Yet all that does is create and inspire the never ending spiral of dieting, bingeing and self hatred.  So, I'm not dieting.  I'm not really exercising. And in the long run I now realize that I'm not doing much in the way of physical self care.  I don't really have the desire to exercise.  I certainly do not have the energy to be all consumed by food, calories and fat grams.
So why did I step on that scale in the first place?  I'm not really sure.  I guess curiosity got the best of me.
My point of this very scrambled post is this;  Who cares what someone weighs?  It does not inform anyone of what their contribution to society is.  It does not dictate who they are.  Caring about someone's weight does nothing but objectify them.  And no one is an object.
It is high time that we stop looking at the surface of what someone looks like but allow ourselves to look deeper and find out who that person is.  I know I'd surely appreciate that.

Dwelling

I'm a dweller.  A worrier.  A ponderer.  A thinker.  I can dwell on a subject for hours, days even.  My husband can tell the second I start dwelling on something.  "You're dwelling." He says in a singsong impatient but loving voice.  It amazes him how I am able to keep at a subject until everything little item has been scrutinized at least a dozen times.  My high school English teacher, Mr. Doody, would say that I'm a pro at beating a dead horse.  I must agree with Mr. Doody.  I am a master at dead horse beating.
I don't want to be.  It's not like I set out to over think everything.  I just do it.  It is in my nature.  I could say I blame my parents but that seems so passe nowadays.
Lately, my dwelling has gotten so bad that it induces panic attacks.  I'm no stranger to panic attacks but we aren't friends either.  I've learned how to cope with them using healthy habits but I'm perplexed as to why it seems lately I've become an uber dweller.
The ironic twist to all of this is that now I'm dwelling on the fact that I'm a dweller.  Sort of seems redundant, right?
So how does one become a non-dweller?  Is it possible to really learn to just let things be?  Am I capable of just letting go of the habitual worrying?  Only time will tell.  At least this gives me something to think about.