When the word addiction is bandied around, images that come to mind frequently involve drugs and alcohol. But addiction has as many varieties as there are addicts, and the compulsion is a symptom not a cause. What it’s a symptom of, varies for individuals, but we’re all numbing something.
I challenge anyone not to collapse to some degree under all the stress I experienced. The grief and trauma of losing my mother and sister, as well as my grandfather, both my in-laws and a handful of aunts and cousins – eight deaths in six years. Dealing with my teenage son running off the rails and looking dangerously ill, and taking in my adult nephew with all his issues after losing his mother. Our marriage in utter turmoil. My grandmother’s decreasing health and cognition requiring constant care and demands from me. Ending over three decades of performing and teaching music. Losing my identity as my children left home, my career was gone, and my youth was a distant past. It was a lot to deal with.
It’s easy to know when your body needs food – physical cues are given out. We all know what they are (even when some of use choose to ignore those cues), and we know drinking a glass of water doesn’t make them go away. So feeding physical hunger is easy. And yet I do not stand alone when it comes to yearning for food regardless of physical hunger.
I am still struggling with high levels of anxiety and resorting to moments of scratching at my hands – but it isn’t escalating. I have an appointment with my new psychiatrist tomorrow and managing the anxiety is going to be top of our chat list. I’m still on clonazepam and I’d like to be off it and find a longer term solution. I feel the improvements in my eating regime have contributed to my sense of fragility and vulnerability – escalating my anxiety.
It’s been a wild ride. My last two days at the clinic were focused on discussing healthy ways of managing my out of control anxiety issues. I had one day of leave cancelled altogether (Sunday) as I couldn’t be trusted not to harm myself. I didn’t even trust myself. The next day was escorted leave and Tuesday – my final day as it turned out – back to full unescorted pre-discharge phase.
Today I am afraid of recovery. I’ve been in this place before – where I’ve felt the beginnings of change and then become overwhelmed with the fear of that change and what it might herald. so I rush back to the safe and familiar.
So in contrast to my previous post on resilience, I now concede that in some areas of my life I can become and behave in an extremely resilient manner. There are areas I need to work on, but for now I’m surrounded by professionals who will gladly work with me towards those goals.
Same old, same old. Neither better nor worse. I feel my depression has sunk pretty low and I spent a lot of today mapping out “exit” strategies. But I also communicated this with the registrar and have requested to have my dose of pristiq increased. She’s also modified my leave to “escorted” which is fine by me.
A friend of mine has encouraged me to share my private journals of inpatient. I hope it’s not triggering for anyone. It’s deeply personal. And I’ve made every effort to remove identifying information of the clinic, staff and patients. It’s a long read! But this is what life is like.
It’s a wild ride as an inpatient at a psychiatric facility. I can’t honestly say I’d recommend it. But then sometimes we have to do necessary things in life that aren’t necessarily enjoyable. I didn’t traipse all the way here for fun. I left behind all that was comfortable and familiar, to learn uncomfortable, unfamiliar ways of managing my emotional and eating behaviours. At this stage I am far from cured.
In 12 hours, I’m heading off to the clinic. I think I know what to expect, but I also know I have no idea. Does that sound confusing? Of course it does. Life is confusing. Whatever preconceptions and expectations I’ve managed to construct for myself over the past few weeks, tomorrow will be the day where it all comes to pass and reality sets in.
I’m consumed with sadness today. I know it’s the stupid drug, but fuck it’s annoying. On the upside, the psychiatrist rang and said to wean myself off and I’m being admitted into the inpatient eating disorder unit instead. It’s a strange world where that seems like a good thing – right?
My psychologist (I love her to bits!) has suggested I consider a specialised Eating Disorder inpatient treatment program.I once again had a […]
I must be do something right. I’m feeling very uncomfortable. And I’ve been reassured again and again, that change is uncomfortable, so I guess this is change. Whether it’s short or long term change, is yet to be determined. In the meantime – I’m feeling very uncomfortable.
Apparently I’m a shame magnet. Not sure if I struggle with shame because I’m super sensitive to humiliation, or if I’m super […]
