A Journey from Victim to Survivor…to Living Freely

So, This Is What Relapse Looks Like…

on June 30, 2015

I’ve been hiding from my blog…which is never a good sign.  Isolating gives Ed a chance to grab a foothold…lots of them.  But (I am not using the dialectic “And”), I thought I was reaching out…I was talking through stresses and triggers…And (here’s my dialectic thinking) maybe I began to struggle more because the triggers were new…the last 6 weeks brought–a confidence breached (trust is something I value so highly and to have it breached brought up so many issues that I thought I’d dealt with–and I had, but being in PTSD world changes everything), being interrupted repeatedly during a meeting (had my demons shouting “You’re a fuck up! No one cares what you say.  Shut the fuck up!!!”), overtly sexual comments from an older man (here comes PTSD flashbacks of childhood sex abuse)…all of those at the church I have called home…and a decision to move to a different congregation, because that one has been tainted and it’s not my safe place to land.  Who knows what else has gotten me here…this is not to blame.

I come to the computer knowing that I let Ed (and self harm) sneak back in and Ed got those footholds.  I’ve got great skills to use…healthy ones…I went a different route…restricting, fasting and other eating disorder tricks…meal plan became a distant reminder…I ran a bit…I went beyond my movement plan…I’ve hurt myself. And, I decided I know what this route looks like…it moves to a place where my heart rate is erratic, my body temperature hovers around 97, my face growing lanugo, my hair falling out in clumps and breaking in my hand, my skin a pasty gray.  I’m not there…but I am on that same old path and I am refusing to go further.  Except…I cannot do it alone.

As a friend handed me a couple cheese sticks and homemade jam last week and I accepted through tears…I said “I cannot do this alone.  I need help.”  This friend is one who has supported me endlessly on my journey and who came to my level of care assessment nearly 3 years ago and said “Let them help you.”  And so, even though I still hold to the idea that I should be cured…that trying hard enough should just make it so…I have asked my psychologist about more help–a higher level of care.  That appointment is tomorrow at 4.  I’m scared.  I don’t even know what scares me most right now but, I’ve got 2 friends messaging me with meal encouragement and reminders (I love them for this)…and, it’s not enough.  It helps…but I am still sitting here typing–and drinking my laxative tea.  Food has become scary again.

I need help because I know I want recovery.  I just cannot remember what I need to do next.  I forget the next right step. I feel I have lost all of my skills…forever.  That I have totally messed up recovery.  I want to heal.  I know I cannot be cured, but I know I can be better. I am still standing on my own two feet…and I hope it is courage or bravery that is having me ask for help.  It has felt like weakness or defeat.  I am choosing to think it is strength that will push me toward help.


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