The Storm Before the Calm

There is no knowing who of my blog visitors has experienced an eating disorder. My guess is that many have, if not firsthand, then vicariously through a loved one. Someone once told me that anorexia seemed to him to be simple deprivation with little payoff. I've read about anorexia extensively. Most of the information seems to focus on anorexic habits, thoughts, and causes. There are also articles which discuss end results of starvation (hair loss, infertility, dry skin, tooth decay, death), and I've found quite a bit of information about therapy methods, eating disorders clinics, and possible causes of eating disorders. Yesterday, though, I realized that every person has something which motivates him/her to seek out negative coping devices--even me.

Obviously, my life has become increasingly stressful in the past few months. My emotions have moved beyond my control. My ability to think clearly and rationally has left me. I've become unpredictable and moody. This is not who I am.

It was stupid of me to stop going to therapy. And yes, it was by design. Something inside me began rebelling in early October. Therapy no longer felt helpful; in fact, it seemed that each time I discovered one more thing, my life became more complicated, frustrating and sad. I was losing the joy that has motivated me for years and finding it difficult to regain it. However, not going to therapy simply increased the problems.

I've wondered sometimes why of all the coping devices I've used, anorexia is the one I seem to turn to most often. It doesn't give immediate relief--in fact, it seems to make me more uncomfortable, initially. It doesn't relieve stress; quite the opposite. So--why? The answer comes clearly after about three days of extreme food restriction or starvation. That's when the endorphins kick in, soothing me, bringing a delightful feeling of well-being and strength. I understand that it's not good for me. It feels wonderful.

Negatives of the high--I can't think clearly, I have difficulty speaking (mispronouncing words, or inability to find the proper ones), I shake, reduced physical stamina.

Positives of the high--I feel absolutely whole, rested, and at peace. There is a slight euphoria about life in general. The emotions that I feel are muted--if I cry during this time period, I can usually recover quickly, whereas in a "normal" state of mind I might have difficulty with recovery for a few days. In short, this feels wonderful and it lasts until I begin eating again.

I'm well aware of the deceptive quality of this phenomenon. I also know that when it came around 2:30 a.m., Sunday morning, for the first time in months, I felt calm. I skipped church and just enjoyed the feeling. Then I used the time to work on therapy assignments that would normally cause me incredible stress. There are some things that have happened in my interactions with people in the last few months that have hurt me. Rather than accept that I'd been hurt and working through that, I buried the emotion and continued forward. In a non-PTSD person, this actually can work, allowing the emotion to sit and somewhat resolve itself until a calm conversation can take place. In a person with PTSD it serves to make one paranoid, unreasonably emotional, suspicious, and stressed. I'm no exception. Therapist told me I must revisit those I've felt have hurt me in some way and discuss this with them. This was not an assignment I was happy to have.

When the calmness came, I made a list of people I needed to talk to. I made certain to talk with them on the phone, so that I could hear vocal inflections and not be left guessing about hidden meanings or unspoken feelings. I was able to talk to every person on my list. I find it interesting that almost immediately, with one person, I felt that life was normal again, I trusted him again. It was an odd feeling. With another friend, I felt stress had eased, but I still felt wary of him. There was an undercurrent of disbelief from him as we spoke--a feeling that regardless of how I explained things, he believes I'm exaggerating my responses on purpose. I was frustrated because I care so much about him--however, Therapist said this might happen and I was prepared for it. The result is that I still feel insecure in that friendship. I would like to have it last indefinitely. I don't know if I can sustain that. I don't know if it's healthy for me to try. The others I spoke with were accepting and supportive. It was a relief.

I've agonized for a few months about the situation with my mother. I've felt rejected repeatedly, and unhappy that she wants me in her life, but only as a friend, or as someone who will "give" constantly. I realized yesterday that things have shifted. I no longer feel miserable about this. Perhaps I'm finished grieving. All I know is that it no longer seems to be bothersome, and I have no more desire for a shift in our relationship. Do I wish I had different parenting? Yes. But there is nothing I can do about it, and there is no logical reason for me to look for the affirmation and affection I didn't receive as a child, now that I'm an adult. I can't explain exactly what has happened, I only know that just as I've been able to let go of the sexual abuse agony, my feelings about my childhood have eased and I no longer care as deeply.

I have a few more therapy assignments, and two weeks to work on them. I need to start eating again--that will be a difficult one, but doable, because now I think I finally want to. I still have negative reactions to being touched, but those aren't present constantly, nor are they accompanied by intense fear. I think that aversion will continue to lessen as I work on things that bother me, and stop avoiding them.

I wish I didn't feel so much resentment that I have to deal with the results of being abused. I would like to say, "Okay, I have PTSD. That's part of my life. I'll just figure out ways to deal with it gracefully, and end up a well-adjusted, wonderful person." Instead I'm still in the "IT'S NOT FAIR!! I DON'T WANT THIS!!" phase. I'm sure that will pass, in time. But for now, I'm not graceful or accepting or wonderful in any sense of the word.

I have to go to work now.