I’ve been thinking about this blog, and thanks to Apple Keychain, I still had my login info (one must be diligent about not reusing passwords). There’s been much of my life that has changed, and much that is still the same.
I don’t count triscuits anymore. I eat ice cream on occasion, and even my kids’ sugary cereals. But this list of foods I cannot eat is still long and absurd, like non-diet soda, cream sauces, full-fat yogurt, most pasta, cheesecake, and others. I try not to think of that list. I try not to count points or calories. Instead I give myself points like I gave my kids when they were young. Get up out of bed – 1 point. Get dressed, brush teeth, put dirty laundry in the hamper, make bed – each of those are 1 point. Have breakfast (anything): 5 points. Force myself to eat lunch: 5 points. Eat anything other than a Lean Cuisine for lunch: 1 point. And so on. At middle age, I have to bribe myself to eat. Granted, I don’t total my points, it’s more like getting a gold star in Kindergarten.
Ana and Mia never leave, they just wait in the back seat for something to hit, and then they come forward and show “Aha! Told you you couldn’t do it! Now can we go have fun?” So when Covid hit just as my gallbladder threatened to explode (I do not joke about such things), Ana and Mia really wanted to come over and quarantine with me, my husband, my kids, and my dog.
Thankfully my psychologist and psychiatrist Zoom, and even now I don’t think I’ll go back to in-person therapy. Meeting virtually gives me no excuse to be late, to skip a week, etc. My therapist is ballsy and knows me well enough that she doesn’t have to see my wringing my hands or pinching my palms to know that I’m self-harming.
I’ve been reading some wonderful works that people have written about Covid as we begin to emerge from the pandemic. Full disclosure: I and my entire immediate family are fully vax’d, I think it’s absurd that the vaccine and masking became political and I chose to make them apolitical for me. It’s very simple. I dally with a deadly disease – the deadliest psychological illness out there – on a daily basis. My body does not respond to anything well. When I had my gallbladder surgery, they wanted to admit me afterward for complications but for Covid. When I change meds, it takes twice as long to adjust. Just as I’ve felt that my body betrayed me by having big thighs and wanting food, I now feel that my body betrays me when I take days to recover from visiting with extended family, or from going on a long-ish drive.
So for me, balancing the risk/reward of Covid vs. the vaccine is a no-brainer. I get that everyone is different and I’m not here to preach about the vaccine. But as I write, I am writing from someone who feels very safe because she and her kids and husband and elderly parent-in-law are vaccinated.
As I begin to socialize, to hug people, to visit instead of FaceTime, to not have to mask up (though I keep one with me)… it’s starting to hit me like PTSD what we’ve been through. We’ve been through a tremendous trauma, and somehow, I managed to do it while avoiding relapse. Second full disclosure: I can’t say the same for self-harm.
My depression has been horrid the last several months, I struggle to complete the most basic of tasks and to get through the day. My sponsor told me back in March that she couldn’t work the Twelve Steps with me for the time being because my depression was so acute, I had to get help before we could continue to dig through my past. I left my toxic job just before Covid (BC), hired a career coach, networked, applied, interviewed less than a week after my surgery!, had a verbal offer….which was then pulled a week later with all new positions because of – yup – Covid.
So to sum up – still anorexic but fighting it, still dealing with body dysmorphia and self-harming, as well as chronic headaches/migraines and neuropathy from the car accident I was in a few years ago. Still lost, but modestly hopeful. Older, but definitely not wiser. Mired in a major depressive episode that is at least several different posts. And writing. Blogging. Starting eventually a freelance writing & advising business as well as writing fiction. Still trying to keep my friends Ana and Mia from the rest of my life though not always successful at it. Still hoping tomorrow will be better. Still here.
I hope you are still here, or you are stumbling upon my blog. Either way, I will still be writing about recovery, growing older, parenting (and spousing – is that a word?), and living with chronic physical and psychological illnesses. And though it is hard for my addled mind to focus, I will try not to ramble. Emphasis on “try.”
Counting Triscuits 