Category Archives: anxiety

[cranky] so broke, so pissed

I can literally feel a stabbing pain in my chest. My two $25 birthday giftcards are gone. Who has been in the house since I recieved them? Realtors, prospective house buyers, my good friend “J,” and my old high school friend and new friend-without-benefits “Jack.” About a month or two ago I had a disappearing cash meltdown — was Jack going through bags, to find my purse, to find my wallet, to take cash?! Twice? No way. Has Jack managed to walk off with giftcards that had been tucked away? Is that what he was doing instead of cleaning the kitchen after he made midnight dinner a few nights ago?

Previously the thief was my younger sister — stealing keys, making copies, and sneaking in while we were at work to steal cash and sell-able anxiety meds (usually klonopin). I feel like the biggest fool letting someone into my home and having money disappear. There is $5.05 in my purse right now, all in coins. That’s all I have. Along with no job and a student loan payment due in 7 days.

My sister has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). She was diagnosed when she was 17. There is a list of 9 “symptoms”/behaviors and you have to have 5 to get your gold star… she has all 9. Very briefly… she was drugged and raped at age 14 setting her off into a downward spiral of shit; by 15 she had admitted to us that she was drinking heavily since nearly age 13 and she also thought she had a miscarriage without actually having had sex; by 16 she had her first tattoo out of a pay-by-the-hour motel and was dating a 31 year old man with 4 kids from 4 different moms; at 17 I took away her PTI freebie and she had to be processed at the state prison after she stole my identity and all of my money while I was out of the country, she was a member of the Crips, got checked back into the psych ward, and skipped town for several months with my mom (to this day, I’m not sure where they went), after they came back in town she was checked into a residential outdoor rehab center and was their longest ever patient– turning 18 at the facility and choosing to stay. By age 19 she accused me of molesting her repeatedly as children, and now at 20 I’m forbidden from being in the same building as her, per my mother and grandmother’s orders. J has seen her out at bars several times, and she’s going to be 21 in a few months. She’s claimed to be an alcoholic since she was 15, and now she’s regularly drinking and driving and the only person that could possibly stop her is my mother who is afraid of running her off. She is capable of constructing entirely alternate realities, alternate stories, events, persons and then believing them whole-heartedly.

Despite my father and therapist telling me otherwise, I feel like the ultimate dumb shit for allowing money to walk out of my house. I know better. I know the signs, I know what to look for. I let my guard down, and I feel like an idiot. I think there’s some chocolate box cake mix in the cabinet I can make, so I can save that $5.05 for something… no clue what…

[Fat] progress?

Progress is a long long journey. I feel that I’ve been making progress in terms of both my mental health (depression, anxiety) and my personal acceptance of my body ever since I came back from Ghana. Mental health has had two big hurdles/setbacks in the last year, but I’ve honesty never felt better about my body than I do these days. However, this week has been incedibly hard. My sister has been struggling for the last two weeks, she took it out on my father, and he took it out on me.
So I’m taking it out on the blog.
Have you ever written a hate-note to yourself? For years I used to just write “fat ugly stupid” and leave it in my underwear drawer or the corner of my desk so that my parents or roommate could never find it. I haven’t written one in ages, but I did a few days ago… its almost funny, almost, that this time I wrote “too fat.”
I know this is all part of being human. But it hurts so much. And waking up in the morning to find my note the next day just threw me back down again. I have to remember that we are all human, and I am not alone in this. And that if you have ever been here, you are not alone either. It takes time to make progress. And we’re here together to make that journey.

[cranky] roadtrippin’ to sanity

Confession: at the last minute in May I found out that I wasn’t graduating, by one class– my senior research. This set off a genuine mental and emotional spiral, my father came up and packed me and my things into my car and took us home for me to lay in bed in total shock for two weeks. My therapist and I have been trying a new med, with no improvements on my ability to get out of bed before 5p, and the aching joints and muscles which made it easier to validate laying down all day despite the fact that that was the problem. Three months later, waiting for my school district arts program to get funding so I could return to work, I realized that I had no choice but to attempt a 180– applying for a waitress job, joining a gym, contacting school, and finally just throwing my things into the car and driving up. I made the drive in record time– afraid that if I stopped I would turn around. The registrar, provost, student support, etc were overwhelmingly supportive and kind in a way that I never saw for the last two years that I’ve been working with them. I’ll be taking a long distance course so I don’t have to be on campus. I saw my old fling for the two evenings, reminding myself what it feels like to be a very satisfied woman. Last night I drove to Louisville to stay with my best girlfriend from elementary school for a few days before I head home, and then to the DNC. Its the clearest I’ve thought in nearly a year, and I’m happy and satisfied. How wonderful 🙂

[fat] a new diet begins

I’ve joined weight watchers this week. The online food diary from last semester helped me figure out what I should and shouldn’t eat, but somehow weight watchers feels more legitimate?
I have metabolic syndrome, meaning that I have elevated cholesterol, elevated blood sugar, a slow metabolism, elevated blood pressure, and a knack for not ever being able to lose weight. The carrots and hummus diet did nothing. The protein water diet did nothing. So now I’m on to the most legitimate thing I can find online. I weighed in this week at a whopping 220.5 pounds. Standing at just 5 feet and 6 inches tall when I bother to stand straight, my BMI tells me that I’m obese, and that my ideal weight is 125-155. That’s 65.5 pounds to lose. And according to my doctor if I don’t lose it, I’ll be diabetic just like my grandmother. I inherited the huge boobs and bad blood, way to go.

My cortisol levels aren’t terrible right now, but stress and anxiety are words that would best describe the inside of my head. My younger sister has borderline personality disorder, my parents are going through a nasty divorce, and things spiraled out of control over four and a half years ago after my sister was drunk, drugged, and raped by a friend. At the age of 14. Chocolate and beer have been great coping mechanisms, but coupled with stress and a predisposition for diabetes, I backed myself into a cave I’m not sure I can find my way out of.
Cortisol levels screwing up means that my fat doesn’t amass on my arms, legs, belly, and boobs in a somewhat proportional manner. My legs are still as skinny and muscular as when I was swimming and weightlifting at 140 pounds. My arms have a little more fat on them than back when I could bench 95 pounds, which is pretty great for a girl. My boobs now look proportional, now that I’ve had three pounds removed at the age of 16 and they’ve grown back.
My belly looks like I’m pregnant. I bought maternity jeans because they’re the only thing that will fit me besides sweatpants. I don’t get to walk around with a sign that says “I have a thyroid problem. I have severe anxiety. I have a predisposition for diabetes.” I get to appear as the fat blob in my university classes, the girl no one can share clothes with. My weight has begun to affect the way that I can sit and move, and as a former dancer it kills me to feel unable to move easily. It feels as though no matter what I do, what I eat, what I don’t eat, my weight is slowly and surely inching up, and spiraling out of control.
Hopefully the new diet works. Right now my goal is just 209.5, 5% of my weight. And my challenge for the week is to drink all eight glasses of water every day.