IOP

So, In a couple days I will start Intensive Out Patient for my eating disorder. My hours have been reduced and I hopefully find out by tuesday what kind of hours they will be asking me to reduce to. The person that notified me of my admission said there weren't any restrictions as long as you could get to the program. I don't know that she knows the specific policy but I'll find out.

 I guess, if there isn't a restriction, I'll have to ask the attending doctor to write me one and fill out my FMLA paperwork because I will try and work the 40+ hours a week and do treatment at the same time. Something tells me being at work at 6am and not getting home until 8 pm is not conducive to recovery or meal planning.

I am currently oscillating between the hope that this will help and the desire to just stay here; stay sick. On my admission paperwork we had to carefully word the answers because I could've been hospitalized. I guess it's supposed to be more therapeutic to do more time in IOP than to have to spend time in IP/PHP. Less drama. The trick is to not get admitted to a higher level of care now that I've finally been placed in IOP.

I'm scared to be me right now. Scared to try. To get up, dust myself off, and start moving again. The people in my life won't let me give up though. In fact I told my doctor I wish she'd just give up on me and she then spent 90minutes the next day filling out my paperwork with me so I didn't have to wait for an admissions facilitator. My primary doctor drove me across town to protect me. No amount of planning and preparation takes away the sting of loss; I'm trying to remember this. I know my coworkers, friends, family would miss me. I just wish I missed me too.

Will

Part of my blog is a participation piece with an inspirational idea group. But, I'm struggling to actually write about the last two topics: something positive about ourselves, and what super power we'd have.

I had an experience this past week when I realized that other's perceptions of me differ from my own. Not that I think they are right. In fact I think they are quite skewed. But it made me think. The sentiment of the conversation was the VP of HR telling me that it's validating when I couldn't even have the chance to put in an application for an opportunity before everyone had already nominated me. This was the one comment that caused me to pause in my deliberations; I realized how much people think of me and that they would actually miss me after I'm gone.

The other. I don't want a superpower. I really don't. But I think this is more the "I don't see myself actually being around to use it, so what's the point".

I'm mostly at peace with my decisions right now. I know that I need to unpack my apartment because I would rather leave it clean than a half-cluttered mess to be sorted through. I know I need to write a will. I want to make sure I tie up loose ends.

Graduation Day

Despite my crazy life I have followed roads to their completion. I finished high school, graduated from basic training, received my cosmetology license. But these things were missing an important element-me.

In high school, I finished a semester early and joined the military. My friends walked across the stage without me and I received my diploma in a harrowing experience by notarized permission to my sister to pick it up. Because I couldn't get home to receive it.

In basic training I finished. But I was part of the 'band'. I say 'band' because I was part of the music flight. But, I was also deemed overweight and the day musical instruments were selected I was getting my body fat read. I was delegated the prestigious position of horn holder. The spot given to those who don't get an instrument and stand in the back of the flight holding a horn and acting like they are playing. I. am. short...so I couldn't even see the graduation of my fellow airmen.

Hair school was, well, hair school. I finished it because every time I thought of quitting I heard the song "beauty school drop out" in my head. But, there are no finishing accolades for completing the curriculum. 

College was different. Of course, I finished it like everything else I've been through. But it says something that I hit my first tumultuous struggle in the midst of the degree program and I still finished. In the process of finding myself my resolve to finish school grew stronger. On the journey of realizing my past my present and future became more real. For the first time I walked across a stage, received my degree, and moved my tassel. My degree is really the only time I have actually been present in my accomplishment.

It's through this process I really overcame a piece of myself and it's something I can say I'm proud of even as I try and minimize how important it is. In that one day I completed everything I had struggled with, everything I was afraid of was overcome, and every dream was realized. 

A little bit morbid

What happened to spontaneity? At what point did you lose the right to do something with your day just because you feel like it at the moment-just because you're alive?

When is the last time I was spontaneous? Truly off the cuff? Have I ever done something awesome without planning?

At what point did I forget I'm alive? When did I get lost in the process of the day-to-day, become so task orientated, that I forgot how much it means to actually be living?

It's in moments like this, in the middle of the night, when there's this glimmer. I know I have this gift, life, and I'm trying to return it for store credit. I want to say that this is easier, giving up, but it really isn't.

You have to stand in line with cantankerous people who all feel their return is the center of the universe. Then, you get to the customer service counter and, even with the receipt, the person asks the ins and outs of why this gift has made its way back to the store.

What would I say to the celestial customer service agent? "Uh...I would like to return this life. I was also given an ed, alcoholism, depression, and a few other things. The gift of life is a close replica of these anyway and I would rather have a visa with a shorter life span or, hey, how about I take my refund now as a end-of-life credit?"

Times of stress are the most important times to ensure adequate sleeping and eating

It's no secret that I have been struggling over the last month. In reality I started my nose dive at least two months ago. I wrote about it, saw it happening, and then everything came to a head and collided the end of February.

I think I stopped caring, ultimately. I had/have things going for me; I had two job opportunities lined up, I moved into a new apartment, I'm finishing my degree, I'd signed up to run a half-marathon. But, none of these things were enough to keep me from imploding. They were both too much and not enough to hold me together.

So, I let my eating disorder take over. And it did. Ferociously. What I blogged about in January is happening next month. I am going into a higher level of care. I do, ultimately, have a choice in whether or not I go. But, I haven't taken my life back into my hands and accepted my responsibility. If I don't get better, I have to show I am at least following treatment recommendations written on my return-to-work paperwork.

I will still be living on my own. I'll still be able to work and have a supervisor that's understanding I will have to take reduced hours while I go to further medical 'treatment'. But, because  I need my schedule to stay predictable I was not able to accept either position. Because I cannot concentrate I had to drop my class that started this session.

I am not able to work overtime for the next couple months and will have to supplement my income with savings which, thankfully, I do have enough of. I am not treating my body like an athlete but explain away the ability to train to wait and just wanting to lose the last few pounds.

I say all this because the title of my post was the last recovery advice I received. I realize how simple the advice is and how the simplicity of it does not diminish its importance. The hard part is following this advice and not explaining away my fear of letting go.

If you're still in, I'm still in

In the spirit of comparison I was asked recently which character I remind myself of. There are a few but I will focus on one. Lets see if you can guess :)

I have lived life to my own soundtrack.

I tend to fall in love backwards: whether with a friend, or a significant other. I see what everyone else sees but appreciate the little things and cherish the parts of a person that go unnoticed by most people.

I'm sharp witted and have a quirky, dry sense of humor. I say things people don't expect, without the intention of them being funny, even though the things turn out humorous.

The happenstance in my life, while truly serendipitous at times cannot be undone, much like the pregnancy that juno faces. My life is one doodle that cannot be undid. :)

Most days I wouldn't have it any other way.

I just want to say I love you

It's really hard thinking about what I would like to hear from someone.

If I were honest with myself I would want to hear my dad say, just once, "I love you"

I would want to hear the stories of his childhood that no one can truly fill in the blanks with. I would want to hear about the feelings he didn't share with anyone.

I would want to hear "I'm proud of you"

More than all these things, I would want to be held and have him wipe away my tears. Because actions speak so much louder than his words could ever do. And his suicide speaks volumes.

I miss you dad