Thesis Diary - 24 January 2012

Excerpt from "We Shall Be Heard: Releasing the Silence of Anorexia Nervosa and Achieving Healing Through Creative Nonfiction and Memoir Writing"


Fear Anxiety Depression Self-Hatred . . .
Each rock was a strange mixture of velvety softness combined with rough bumps and indentations. I wrote each word — feelings and actions that have weighed me down for years — on several rocks in stark black ink.
One rock was reserved for the terrifying and addictive disease which has been trying to take over me body and soul for years.
Anorexia
I started to feel both fear and relief as I traced that word in blood-red ink on each side of the rock. I fear letting go of anorexia because it has become so intermingled with my identity. But I know I need to let go of this disease in order to live.
The word looked so powerful. My mind flew back to when anorexia first crept into my life, chipping away bits and pieces of me until I sometimes felt there was nothing left.
Each one of us wrote down the things that have weighed us down throughout the years. We then could choose to hold onto these rocks that symbolically represented the traits that have held us down for years.
Or we could chose to toss these rocks into the river running past the River Centre Clinic. The choice was ours . . .
I went first. I was determined to throw everything that had weighed me down for years. I have struggled through almost six weeks at the clinic. The road to recovery has been rocky and I often have been my own worst enemy as I have fought to get better.
But through all the struggle and pain, through the tears I cried and the loneliness I often felt as I longed to be with my husband and friends back home, through the ambivalence I sometimes felt about letting go of anorexia, there remained a mustard seed of hope that I could be free, I would be free.
I stepped down the grassy, sloping path to the river, dodging overgrown bushes and hanging tree branches, balancing my rocks in my hand. I stepped close to the edge, the river's dark waters churning just a few feet away from me. I threw the first rock, angry as I remembered life before my eating disorder developed. I threw more rocks as far as I could, willing each one to sink deep into the water.
The rock with one word — anorexia – remained in my hand. It felt soft and cold in my hand. The word seemed to mock me, saying that I would never get better, I would never be free. I hurled it as hard as could, feeling a strong sense of release as it landed into the water. I felt as if I had been buried under a ton of rocks and I had finally climbed my way out. At that moment it finally hit me — I want to recover. I want anorexia out of my life forever. I want to be free.
Each one of us took our turn. Some women were able to release all of their rocks, while others chose to hold onto one or more until they felt ready to release their burdens.
I started to cry as I walked back up to the clinic. I'm still not sure why. I was feeling a mixture of release and relief, mingled with fear about the work I still need to do in order to get better.
Later that night, I thought about all those rocks we threw into the dark waters. I could still see the words we had written on the rocks. I imagined the water rushing over the rocks until the words disappeared through the ages, the ink worn off and everything which had weighed us down mingled together into nothingness, becoming meaningless as we move forward into recovery and life.

Feeling under attack by three trolls

Recently I disagreed with one comment someone made after a blog post, and suddenly I feel like I'm under attack.

Most readers have done nothing but offer kind and supportive comments when needed, and challenged me when that is appropriate. But if someone challenges me, that does leave him/her open to also being challenged. It goes both ways.

It started with my posting about how happy I was with my first year of grad school's GPA. Someone without a link calling herself "Ig" posted that I should remember a GPA is just a number, too. I replied in my comment section that I felt that was taking away the only thing I felt good and positive about. I was so proud of that achievement I wanted to share with my friends and fellow bloggers, and now it feels like ashes in my mouth. It feels like nothing, the one thing I felt I accomplished this year. Now I'm sorry I ever mentioned it.

Then M and Trish felt the need to get into the act, calling me defensive and that I couldn't handle criticism (because of the recent comments another troll made about my blog glamorizing eating disorders - which most of my regular readers have either written or tweeted me that I do not do that in any way, but instead describe the pain and problems that come with having anorexia.)

Okay, first let me explain the picture of me with the NG feeding tube. This my blog and I put it up there for me as a reminder that I did not want to fall that far again and to show what having anorexia can do to you - it isn't pretty. I put it up there solely for my own visual reminder to try to stay in recovery. I have removed it since some people obviously find it offensive.

Now my posts in the past six months have not been positive because of my relapse and the reasons behind it. I became involved in proana websites and wrote about them in the hopes of alerting others to the lure that these dangerous sites can have, and also how the sites helped contributed to my relapse.

It is really unfair for someone who hasn't regularly read the posts of the past six months to come in and then lecture me about my attitude toward things such as comments. I think I have always been fair and have allowed comments to stay up that other bloggers would simply delete and then move on.

But I am not going to continue to defend myself to people who won't leave a name or link, who feel they can breeze in here and fan some flames and then waltz out again. It is too triggering and too upsetting for  me, particularly in light of the fact I am in PHP right now and am really really struggling.

I am fine with people challenging me, telling me they hate what I write, saying I'm wrong, etc. But please do me the courtesy of leaving a link so I can clear up a misunderstanding, or at least returning to see if I answered your challenges, etc. I don't like "hit and runs" where someone scoots in anonymously, writes something upsetting and then scurries away. That is cowardly and from this point on those posts will be deleted.

I have to stress I am really struggling right now. I am really hurting right now, and my motivation and drive for recovery is about at zero. I can't let a few trolls push me lower than I already feel and right now I am feeling ultra-sensitive. Anyone who has gone through the refeeding syndrome will understand that.

I started this blog for me, and feel like I shouldn't even have to write this post. I love that many people read it and follow it, and I would hate to have to close it to invitation only. I love the feedback I get, and then reading the blogs of other people who leave their links on my site.

But I must protect myself first and not internalize the comments of three people who haven't even tried to get to know me and my writings more in depth.

I will stress: I have to protect myself and whatever attempt at recovery I can make. That has to be first and foremost in my life, not defending every word I write and every picture I post.

I am ready (for anorexia rehab)

I will be leaving tomorrow for the River Centre. I am both scared and ready. Scared to gain weight, scared to discover who I am underneath the anorexia nervosa. Scared of the hard work I must do and the things I must face. Scared to live, but also scared this illness could kill me.

I am ready. I am ready to live my life again. I'm ready to discover who I am and who I can be behind the obsessions with calories and weight and body image. I ready to rediscover the love and beauty of my marriage to my incredible husband, David; the hope and fun that comes with friends and learning and growing; the life that comes with being a healthy weight and not being afraid and anxious about that.

I could not have taken this step without everybody's support and love. All of you have lifted me when I felt I couldn't make it. All of you have given me hugs and kisses. I can't express - it is beyond words - what everyone's support has meant. To me, you all are Beautiful Bloggers and beautiful people and I would hug each one of you if I could.

I will have my laptop with me, and plan to blog as events unfold and I rediscover how to eat without fear and everything that comes with that. I also plan on keeping up with all of you. :)

I know I can be more. I recently found out my GPA for this first year of graduate school. In spite of my relapse, in spite of restricting and starving and dropping more than 20 pounds, in spite of the rapid increase of my ED symptoms, in spite of everything, including often believing I wasn't smart enough for graduate school and should just leave — I have achieved a 3.8 GPA. I am proud of that.

I wonder I could have done without anorexia screaming at me constantly. When I told my doctor my GPA for my first year of graduate school, he said, "I told you are much more than your weight."

I will leave it at that. Tonight I will say goodbye to everything around me; tomorrow I will take a deep breathe, drive forward to Ohio and the Centre and work toward becoming me again.

I am ready.

Paralyzed

I am paralyzed by fear. Fear of failure? Fear of success? Or am I just dead inside?

Graduate school started out rough for me, but I soon learned to love the learning and interplay of ideas and discussions that take place both within and outside the classroom. I am specializing in Children's Literature, and I particularly enjoyed studying what children read and analyzing the meaning behind the texts.

Last semester, we started with Robert Fagles' translation of "The Odyssey." (Although not specifically for children, literature for children often draws inspiration and meaning from this epic poem." I was entranced by the language, the description of dawn with its "rose-red fingers" and the journey Odysseus undertook - battling evil gods and goddesses and his own nature along the way - to return to the love of his life, Penelope. I was shocked by the violent ending in which the suitors are slaughtered, and yet moved by the loving reunion between Odysseus and Penelope.

I couldn't wait to read the other books, to go to class, to take part in the discussions and to write my term paper on female heros. I fell in love with Sara and "A Little Princess," her stoicism and kindness shining through. I was amazed by realistic portrayal by a male author of the female protagonist, Lyra Belacqua in "The Golden Compass," and was both enchanted and drawn into the world created by Philip Pullman so much I immediately went out and bought the sequels, even though neither book was required reading for class.

This semester started out well. I wrote a creative non-fiction piece about life with anorexia — the onset of this illness at age 41, my struggles to recovery and my decline into relapse — that was well-received and has the possibility of being developed into a larger piece for publication. In my other class, I enjoyed learning about the early texts used to teach children, from the Catechism to hornbooks to Puritan pieces that assumed the basic evil of nature even while teaching them the alphabet.

Now it all feels like ashes and dust. My moods swing so violently from anger at anorexia to hopefulness that recovery is possible. I feel like I am on the world's fastest roller coaster, careening from this turn and that turn; here there is a fun house mirror that shows me as fat and ugly, there is another that reflects a drawn, skeletal woman who looks as she will drop at any moment.

I sit down with one of my books or at the computer, and I become completely paralyzed because this roller coaster in my head won't stop and I am getting dizzy. I hated roller coasters pre-anorexia; the rides always made me nauseated at best and sick at worst, and now I'm on a roller coaster I can't find the exit to.

I am beginning to feel desperate as I enter my fourth year battling anorexia. I know many people have battled their eating disorders for decades, and some friends with EDs say that I should be able to overcome this because of the short length of time I've had it. But I am 44 and my body and soul can't take much more.

I constantly feel as if the pre-anorexic Angela has been snatched away forever. She will never return; there will be no "happily ever after." I want off this roller coaster; I am too dizzy and sick. And I'm increasingly beginning to feel the only way off this horror ride is if anorexia kills me and that this will be the year it does. Then so be it . . .