High functioning

They say I'm high functioning.
I have enough diagnosis
To fill up one hand
But it's all hidden under
This marvelous mask

They say I'm high functioning.
I go to school, I work
I even live hours away from family
I do chores, I pay bills
But I till cry myself to sleep at night

The problem with being high functioning is that they don't notice when things go wrong. It took so long for me to find help because no lne believed I was as sick as I was. And by the time I got help, it was too late. I was slicing my body open and popping pills every night.

The psych ward

Lots of people seem to be scared of psych wards. As if people with illnesses are something to be afraid of. As if our depression is contagious.

One of my friends came to visit me today. I'm so grateful that I have this amazing support system, and people I can trust to be there for me in my roughest times. Unfortunately, I've also been disappointed by the lack of support that I've had from some people. But that's life.

I met an amazing woman today. She really enlightened me. Her positive and willing attitude toward treatment, and her self awareness with regards to her disorder was quite impressive. It made me think a lot. Shes ten years older than me, and highly educated. That's my nain goal for when I'm thirty. To be very highly educated. But I don't want to be thirty and in hospital. I want to be educated and successful. If that means letting go of my disorders, maybe this is the time to do that.

Inpatient

I've been admitted to the acute mental health ward. I'm allowed my phone which is wonderful, and the staff seems quite laid back and caring.

I overdosed twice in the past two days, which is what resulted in me getting here.

I'm hoping my stay isn't too long as I'm hoping to get on a plane and fly to Vancouver in a couple weeks. But a week long stay wouldn't do me any harm.

They keep on asking me what I need. I don't know what I need. I just know that what I'm doing right now isn't working. That spending my nights wanting to overdose or actually overdosing isn't how I should be living my life. I really hope this stay helps me. I'm fed up living like this.

I have reasons to stay alive but none of them matter if I'm dead. And that's the current though process I'm struggling with. I'll continue writting and keeping you all posted.

Thank you so much for your unconditional support.

Perseverance

I've gotten shot down time and time again. I'm one of those 'hopeless' cases no one wants to help. I guess when your still suicidal after four hospitalizations and the max amount of anti depressants they can give you, doctors no longer know what to do. 

In some ways, I've had an extremely lucky upbringing. Supportive parents, great friends, wonderful teammates, and big goals. But no matter how lucky you are, life always gets in the way. It started with my parents divorce, followed by rejection, loss and despair. 

Between this rocky, although happy, upbringing, and losing the genetic lottery, the depression, anxiety, bulimia, and borderline personality were in full swing by the time I was 17. 

I'm what they call a high-functioning mentally ill patient. But under that high-functioning mask, is a lost girl who wakes up at 5 every morning because it takes an hour to will herself out of bed. A girl who spends hours staring at herself in the mirror and hunching over a toilet bowl swearing to herself that she won't ever eat again. A girl who thinks of blades, and ropes, and bridges and pills. 

I'm a therapists worst nightmare. Smart enough to know all the tricks up their sleeves, but not smart enough to listen. Smart enough to be self aware of everything I'm doing but not smart enough to stop. Every time I start thinking I could live a life without my illnesses I come crashing down, fully relapsing into the self harm, purging and other destructive behaviors. Every time I think I'll never slice my skin open or stick my fingers down my throat every again, I end up losing it all, setting my days clean count back to zero.

Every time I think I can break loose and start to walk away, something about this demon pulls me back to the start. I'm like one of those monkeys in a monkey trap. Forever stuck because I won't let go of that stupid banana. 

Don't you dare say I'm not trying

I spend most nights crying, counting my pills until I fall asleep wondering if I have the tools to kill myself without leaving my bed. 

But I wake every God damn morning and eat breakfast. 

Perfectionism

Since I was little I was always called a perfectionist and I always thought it was a compliment because who doesn't want to be perfect? I was warned that this wasn't a good thing and it could get the best of me, but how could it? They were just jealous. That I could be perfect and they couldn't.

When I started therapy for my eating disorder my first year of university, I was told that my perfectionism was driving the disorder. That without letting go of the perfectionism, I wouldn't be able to let go of the eating disorder. I didn't get it. How could they be connected? My perfectionism was perfecting me while the bulimia was destroying me. 

My perfectionism had gotten me straight As all through high school and the first few terms of university. My perfectionism had gotten me 5 provincial championship medals.My perfectionism was responsible for my extreme organization, my ability to balance school, work, volunteering and gymnastics. How could this be a problem?

By the time I figured it out, it was too late. The perfectionism had grown into my brain attacking me on all sides. By the time I figured it out, the perfectionism had decided on the way I sit, dress, act, study, and live. That's how this monster works. It comes to you as a friend. It helps you look prettier and have a clean room and get straight As. Once you've placed your trust in it it starts to attack.

The perfectionism gets needy. It doesn't want you going out with your friends, no you need to stay home and fix that one piece of hair that just wont straighten. You can go to sleep, you need rewrite your cue cards for the 27th time. The perfectionism starts to erase the grey, anything less than perfect is failing. Getting a 99% becomes a punishment.

I'm starting to learn that when you let go of the need to be perfect you can be great. But is it too late? Because when you'd rather die than fail, you know that the perfectionism has won.

Giveaway!

As a thank you for all the support I've received on my blog lately, I thought I'd launch another giveaway!

2 ways to enter:

1. Share my blog on any form of social media (fb, twitter, instagram etc) and either tag me or send a screenshot to dominique.dj.96@gmail.com 
2. Comment on a blog post, and finish your comment with "2016giveaway"

What you get: 

1. A copy of my poetry book
2. Flavored stevia of your choice
3. A harry potter coloring book

Deadline: 

August 31st

Good luck!

Wedding freak out

I went to a wedding last night
It was for one of my favorite aunt's
I travelled six hours on a bus
To get there because this was
Quite important to me.

The ceremony was great and
So was the beginning of the reception
But once the first meal came
I completely froze
It took me about ten minutes
To take the first bite
I finished my plate with a lot of anxiety
And completely lost it
I went down to the restroom
And purged the first of the five courses

I started to panic
So I went outside shaking
And crying. Everyone was staring
I wanted to disappear
Thankfully my boyfriend was
Around his computer and talked me through
Everything that was going on
My mom came down and I told her
That I couldn't eat in front of everyone
And she was very supportive

I spent the rest of the evening outside
Talking with family
Until I left early
With my younger brother and sister

I feel terrible about everything
That happened. I really wanted to
Be there and have fun with my aunt
It's been years since I've seen that
Part of the family and now they must think
That I'm absolutely insane

I'm so disappointed that my
Eating disorder ruined another
Event for me. I'm so sick of this illness
But I'm too scared to leave it

Updated fall plans

I hinted at this a little, in my most recent spoken word, faking perfection, but I have changed my plans for the fall. 

I will be returning to school full time. I will be taking two math classes each term, and writing my undergraduate thesis. The plan after this year is to transfer to a different university across the country.

I tried looking at treatment options. I tried to convince myself I was ready to admit that I ended an inpatient or day hospital program. I was unable to do so. Gymnastics is still such a large positive part of my life, that when I think about leaving the sport for three months my heart aches. I tried not going to gymnastics for two months starting in May, and if anything it made my disorder worse. 

There are plenty of benefits of being a full time student, including seeing my therapist for free. I also found a student job on campus that works around my school timetable. 

I've started studying for my courses already, I'm hoping that helps me not get too stressed in the fall. If I know the material, I'll really just have to focus on my test anxiety. And I do believe that when it comes to test anxiety, exposure therapy really is the way to go. I'm going to do lots of practice exams and really work on doing well under stressful situations. If anyone has any ideas to work on test anxiety please let me know! 

I'm really excited for my fall courses and to get started on my thesis. I have an awesome supervisor, and a topic that combines two of my three favorite areas of math. 

Eating wise, I'm struggling but getting by. I can no longer afford to let my eating disorder ruin my education, so I'm doing what I can to be as functional as possible. I might not be able to kick the disorder, but I can make it easier to manage, do harm reduction, and be less symptomatic. 

The first food incident

Since it's flashback Friday, I thought I'd share the story about the first time I remember struggling with food. 

At this point I hadn't developed my eating disorder, and the trauma that really affected my life had yet to happen. I was living in California, bouncing between my mom's and dad's place.

My parents have very different ideas when it comes to how to feed children. My mom believed that children had to be taught healthy eating. I didn't have much choice as to what I ate, and fruits or veggies had to be included in every meal. I wasn't allowed to leave the table until I finished my plate. My dad had the opposite belief. He believed that the body would regulate itself, and crave what it wants. That children will figure out how much to eat and what to eat if they're left mostly up to their own devices. I didn't get much a say in dinner, but if I didn't want to eat it that was okay. If I wanted a peanut butter sandwich instead, that was fine. 

I spent most of my time growing up with my mom. Sometimes I think if I had spent more time with my dad if wouldn't have developed an eating disorder. Sometimes I think my eating disorder would have been a lot worse with all the freedom I had. 

The first time I remember crying over food was when I was about 5. My mom had served me crackers, cheese and an apple for snack. I ate the crackers and cheese first, and was then too full for the apple. I wasn't allowed to leave the table until I finished, so when my mom left the room to go to the washroom I threw my apple in the trash. When my mom came back, she figured something fishy was up and checked the trash. When she saw my apple, she pulled it out, re washed it, and made me eat it. I was in tears. I just couldn't eat the apple. It took me about an hour to eat this apple. I don't know why I remember this so vividly, but it's my first recollection of food being an enemy.

I hope you're all having a good Friday. Sunday's post will be filled with pictures of me at the wedding I'm going to tomorrow, so stay posted to see my newly died hair. 

Hank is Four!

My sweet momma's boy is four! 

I don't know where to start Hank Mitchell.

You are an equal combination of sweet and stubborn.

You love to give hugs and kisses, color, and be read to.  You love hot wheels, trucks, any type of ball, and getting dirty.

You have a kind heart and gentle spirit.  You love your sister and had rather spend time with her than anyone else.  You are awfully sad when she ignores you or doesn't want to play your type of games.

You love chocolate of any form-milk, cake, cookies, muffins, doesn't matter.  

Your second major food love is bacon.

Which is probably why you are such a healthy boy! You are 43 inches tall and weigh 42 lbs.  

You make everyone around you laugh and smile.  You are so funny and so smart and so loving. 

Mommy loves you sweet baby boy!

Isle of Palms 2016

We arrived at a soggy Isle of Palms the first week of June for a little beach time with daddy.  The rain broke up enough for a quick beach walk our first day there.

Mr. Sunshine was in plentiful abundance the rest of the week as were these happy smiles.

Every day a fisherman would catch sharks and everyone would gather around and take pics and get a closer look.  My kids were completely unimpressed.

I sent this pic to Rosie and posted it on insta and said I cannot believe I'm at the stage of life where my babes play in the sand and I read a magazine.  I miss those days of napping on beach blankets and little sandy toes and hands!

After playing all day we would come in and get dressed to go out for dinner.

Two of my favorite OOTNs.

We had dinner at a few of our favorites including Morgan Creek Grill.

Peninsula Grill coconut cake.

Suffered through waiting in line at Poe's..

Rewarded ourselves with ice cream.

Watched the boats from Fleet Landing.

And splashed around in our favorite fountains.

Needless to say we crashed early every night.

Night night Charleston-thanks for sharing a wonderful week with us.