bethanigoodrum

[bethanigoodrum]

It feels like my brain is collapsing in on itself. Where there used to be beautifully built treatment made buildings and roads that helped my brain function in healthy ways, it has now just turned to rubble and ruins. 

It has felt as if a civil war has been happening inside my head for the last 7 years. There is the healthy Bethani that just wants to grow and flourish against the unhealthy Bethani that just wants complete destruction and control. And over the years there have been times when the war is raging and chaos erupts. And this occurs when the unhealthy piece of me is winning and strategizing the best and fastest way to bring the healthy part of me down. But there have also been periods where that healthy side comes out on top and almost has silenced and stopped the chaos and creation of rubble. 

I can feel the unhealthy side of me winning this long drawn out war right now. It is as if I am inside the bomber plane with the captain of the enemy side and can see the destruction of the bombs of my thoughts from above. And I know that I need to stop and crash the plane before another bomb gets dropped. But instead, the healthy part of me has just been watching as yet another piece of healthy me gets blown into ruin. And all I want to do is wave a white flag because I am so tired of this war. I am so tired of trying to defeat the other side. 

I know I need to do something. I need a new strategy. Cause the unhealthy part of me has been pulling out top notch strategies of thigh gaps and 1 meal a weeks and emotional hits of worthlessness. What can I do to defeat those strategies? How can I overcome this? Is it even possible. Is this war something that I can beat? 

[bethanigoodrum]

Oh boy. This post. Dammit I didn’t want to write it. 

Okay so let’s just jump right on in and be honest cause I haven’t let myself be honest with myself lately. All I’ve been doing is avoiding. 

I’ve been behaving stupidly lately. I told myself I wouldn’t relapse back into the eating disorder but now that it is happening I’m just letting it happen consciously. All I ate in the last 36 hours was an orange and I kept telling myself that wasn't good enough but then proceeded to avoid eating more. I told myself it would be bad to workout and then proceeded to run on the elliptical for 3 miles. At each mile I told myself it would be dangerous to keep going and that I needed to just go home. But then I just kept going until my legs starting shaking. And then once I got in my car I told myself I needed to get dinner but then proceeded to just drive home. Every choice I have been making lately has been a bad one. I went on a drive yesterday, I can't even remember the last time I had gone on one of those drives. I am just fucking up so bad and I haven't been able to convince myself to cut it out yet. Like come on, just cut it out. But for some reason the bad part of my brain is pushing back against that so strong saying I need to keep doing what I have been doing lately. My brain is telling me that I need to do it otherwise I’ll go crazy which makes no sense because I know that part of my brain is the crazy part. But it just feels so logical. 

I promised Sam that I would go a year without self-harming and now that I am 9 months into the promise I am stubbornly trying so hard to hold onto that promise. But how have I been coping with that promise? Just hurting myself in another way by doing what I did today. But it is like I can’t not do at least one version of self-harm, I feel like I won’t survive if I don’t skip all my meals or if I don’t slide the blade across my skin. Which sounds ridiculous I know but it feels so real. 

Before I broke up with Brady my head was full of anxiety and overthinking, My brain was constantly active and that was the driving force of how I lived and got through the days. But now that I did the action that gave me so much anxiety and drove my mind all I have been left with is a numbness that I haven't been able to shake. It feels like I went from one extreme to the next and now nothing is driving my brain. I just feel hollow and the only thing my brain knows what to do when I feel like that is to try and match my outside to my inside. If I feel empty then I am driven to try and make it so I am empty and disappear. 

Before breaking up with him my mind was consumed about my sexuality. It was all I could think about. But now that I am at the stage of my sexuality where I need to take the action to be with a girl my brain has slowed down and I have just been avoiding it. I am scared about it and that is why I have basically shut down but this shutting down feels like a protective sheath. If I don't feel or think and go numb then I don’t have to take on what I am afraid of. I can just disappear. If I just go back to being the familiar mentally destructive person than I can feel safe and comfortable again. And that is such a powerful situation to try and fight back against. 

I don’t know what I am really trying to say in this post. This post has been messy and not very fluent and flowing like most of my previous ones. Normally I finish a post and I am proud of the writing that I have put forth into the world. But I don't feel proud of this one. I don't feel proud of who I am falling back into being. And mostly I am not really feeling much of anything right now and I don’t know what to do about it. I am just stuck, paralyzed staying stagnant- too afraid to figure out who I am but too afraid to truly give myself back up to my mind. 

When I said earlier this week that I just want it all to end I truly did mean it. Living in this mind of anxiety has been tiring and I just want out. And relapsing is one of the ways out. I just know that even though it feels like the right thing to do right now, the only way to get away from the anxiety is to take a step forward, not back. 

I’m just scared. And it is as simple and complicated as that. 

[bethanigoodrum]

Wagon Wheel

I told myself that I wasn’t going to write on here anymore because I thought that having people see my inner thoughts made me seem too weak. I told myself that I should no longer present this side of myself to the world. But this isn't what makes me be weak. What makes me weak is holding everything in and not allowing myself to express it. It is weak to shut people out and push people away from what is happening in my life. It is weak to put on a mask. So why am I trying to put on a mask in my own personal journal?

I love a good metaphor to describe how I’m feeling so here we go: 

It is like I’ve been pulling this wagon behind me and one of the wheels gets loose and starts rolling down the road away from me and I am just standing on the road watching it roll away. And I know that I have to run after it and get it back and figure out how to put it back on the wagon but I am just stuck standing alone on that road. I am just watching it roll away from me letting it go further and further away. I know I have to move and that I will eventually, but in the moment I just can’t get myself to move. And it is like when things keep breaking down people just throw it out because they get tired of fixing it and that is what my mind wants to do. I just want everything to end cause it is so tiring. And I know that I have to go get that wheel cause maybe next time when the wagon hits a bump in the road it won't fall off but I just can't get myself to stop watching it roll. 

I went off my meds, I have basically gone off food, the suicidal thoughts have come back like an old friend, I am beginning to doubt my place in friendships again and I am starting to lose a grip on who I actually am and what makes me, me. 

I am so used to being this person that lives within the disordered mind. The self who doesn't eat, the self who questions my existence just makes so much sense to me and it’s like, is the self that doesn't question everything and is happy and taking care of herself something that can be a truth and real? Or is this my reality. And I know logically that the reality is that living in the disordered isn't what is meant to be. I know that I need to do what I can to be happy. But is it even possible to live a life without being constantly confused about how I feel and who I am?

I have been so confused lately. It feels like every second I am asking myself who I actually am. Am I what I feel in my heart? Am I my fear that is holding me back from things? Am I just the lost person that I feel? Will I ever not hold this confusion about who I am and who I love inside of me? 

This wheel has hit many different pot holes over the years. It hit the hole of loneliness, the hole of stroke, the hole of kong, of failure. And now this time it has hit the hole of love. And now I am standing on this road feeling so lost and I am doing what I can to try and revert back to the comfortable self that I have known for so long now. But I can’t be that self anymore. So the real question is, who am I, really? Who do I want to be and who am I scared of? Because B, what can be scarier than being comfortable in the self that could kill you? Is it worth it? 

Go get that wheel. One more time. You got this. 

[bethanigoodrum]

I’ve been putting off writing this post for some time now. But considering today has been the first time I have gone without any meal in a really long time I figured it’s time to process it. 

I don’t know what it is that is driving me back to these behaviors. I’ve known that I’ve been restricting a decent amount for about a month now but whenever I tell myself to start recording just how many meals I’m skipping or to reach out to someone about it I just find myself freezing up. I know everything I need to do, but I just can’t find it within myself to do it. It’s the thought of realizing that I’m slipping up that I’m afraid of I think. It’s the forcing multiple meals and snacks back into my body daily and knowing there will be a struggle again that keeps me from eating that extra meal or two. I’m scared that if I start eating the right amount of calories per day again I’m going to see how far I’ve slipped but I’m also so scared of putting all those calories back into my body. 

The body image has been bad. Maybe that was what sparked the slip. I see myself and I just can’t help but think that my restricting is okay because I need to lose the weight. Almost every day I have to hold back the urge of asking someone, anyone, if I have gotten fat. I just desperately need to know if what I see is what is being shown to the world. But I always have to stop myself from sending that text or speaking up in the quiet moments of a conversation because if I ask that question about getting too fat the person is instantly going to know that I’m losing my grip on this again. 

I know the facts. This disorder inside my brain is the most fatal one out there. 20% of people die from it and only 50% recover. I know how serious it is and how my body probably can’t afford for me to fuck this all up again. When I was at the ymca today working with a client and playing basketball I got so dizzy that I couldn’t even stand and my vision started going black on me. It scared me that I came so close to fucking things up today. I don’t want to be this person and yet why am I ten hours removed from that situation and still unable to eat anything. My body feels so good right now it’s like I’m riding on some sort of high and my mind just keeps telling me that if I eat the high will end and I will no longer feel strong and agile in my body. When I don’t eat my body image doesn't bother me and i feel good within myself and it’s this feeling that is pushing me continually down the cycle of restriction. 

I know that I can’t fuck up. I can't do it I just can't. I can't let myself to this again. I’ve been doing so well with coping with my depression and suicidal ideation and self harm and I don't know why it is this that I always fail at. It’s always this, creeping back in out of nowhere and dragging me back down. 

[bethanigoodrum]

To the Bone

When To the Bone came out on Netflix everyone warned me not to watch it. And so I didn’t. Until tonight. I was scared going into it because things relating to eating disorders still have such a pull over me. But for some reason unknown to me I hit the play button and spent 97 minutes absorbed with what was happening on the screen. 

The film made so many emotions and memories flood my mind and brought the fictional characters and story alive through my own experience. The memories were there with the panic seen in the eyes of a girl who found out just how many calories she had just consumed. It was there with the subtle acceptance of hearing the loved ones confess their fear for her. Again with the scene showing the hard difficult struggle of trying to find the point to even put one more bite in the body. It was all there for me in those moments. All of my struggles and the history of my disorder were laid out on the table. But the interesting thing is that rather than let the raw clarity of anorexia which was being portrayed right before my eyes consume me with longing, I feel somewhat glad that that girl I can identify with is not someone who I am anymore or who I want to be again. The whole time I was watching I was rooting for and supporting what the mental health professionals were saying. There was no part of me that felt connected to the camaraderie that the girls felt in the house to get away with behaviors and that having behaviors was necessary. When there was a scene of the main girl chewing and spitting at a meal I was rooting for a scene to take me by surprise and have her be like you know what, fuck it, I am going to swallow this bite because it tastes so damn delicious and I deserve just this one bite. And I was just hoping to see the guy who she was eating with be like girl fucking eat, it hurts me to see you act on a behavior right in front of me so come on let’s do this eating thing together! But of course none of those scenes happened. But I think that my desire to see those scenes of growth and progress means something about where i am at with my own recovery. To want to see progress in a scene full of behaviors instead of being crippled by the scene and having the urge to behave in the same way as the girl is encouraging. 

I’ll be super candid about the movie and say that this is not a good representation of treatment and it almost infuriated me at some points how wrong it all was. the fact that there was practically no authority or professionals around to help with the treatment process is something that made the movie feel incredibly unrealistic. But what felt the most realistic and what I absolutely loved was the way they showed how this disorder can affect the loved ones. The sister was the best character in my opinion. She represented everyone out there who has such strong love but has been hurt so much by the disorder to the point of not being afraid to share the harsh realities of what it is like to love someone whose only goal is to waste away. At one point the sister and the main girl are having a heart to heart and the main girl tells her sister not to worry and that she has everything under control. To this the sister tells the girl to imagine everyone in their city who are saying the exact same thing and who will not wake up in the morning. That sentence got to me. I don’t think I can count on my hands how many times I have told people that I am fine. That I have things under control. That I won't let myself get too bad again. That I didn’t eat that day but that I am okay. This disease is so slow moving that it makes you feel as if you have so much control over it because the big picture is so small and so far off in the distance. What’s one skipped meal here and there, right?

But instead of being like the girl in the film who ignores her sister’s comment, I am feeling so vulnerable to that statement right now. I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t have to worry about not waking up tomorrow. Seeing how this disorder affects loved ones, has also really got me wondering how I affect my loved ones. I know it’s been hard. I have memories of just how hard some moments have been with certain people. And it scares me knowing that this fight isn't over just yet. I don’t want to continue to hurt people, I don't want to have people continue to see me choose the disorder over myself time and time again. I can’t let myself relapse again, and just saying that fills me with so much fear because it means that I can’t relapse again. It means that I can’t continue to live with this sickness inside my head which I both love and hate so much. 

I guess what I am trying to say is that I feel both detached from my disorder and yet still very ingrained with it. The movie triggered me and my brain is being overtaken with memories and feelings of what it was like to be at my worst. But even though I’m being taken back to that place in my past I am glad that I am not still residing there. Even though I continue to go back and forth with my recovery I am still so very glad that I have a fraction of health and that hopefully in the future that health will just continue to grow. 

[bethanigoodrum]

Update

I haven’t posted on here in a while and I think it’s because even though I have things I need to talk about, the words just do not come to me in a way that gives me the energy to write them down. There isn’t anything shuffling around inside my brain that is speaking to me. I have no enthusiasm about writing or sentences to string together that will make me proud of being the author.  And I feel like that is translating into how I’m feeling about my life right now.

I’ll be the first one to say it, I’m letting myself slip up. I’ve been siting here, letting my fingertips touch the keyboard trying to put down word after word to create a meaningful post that lets the world and myself know exactly what is going on with me. I even typed up an entirely different post all about how my new job is bringing out my insecurity within myself and how my sexuality is confusing me. But when i started writing about my confusion about guys and girls my fingers weren't able to keep on making words go after one another. Everything just feels so confusing and overwhelming and I just find that it is easier to stop typing, to stop thinking, to close the computer and just look at the wall and give up. 

The one question that I have been asking myself repeatedly is why am I not able to put 100% effort into making my life better. It seems like for the past couple of years all i have been able to do is constantly stay in this state of confusion about if I want to move forward or stay in my life of restricting, depression and giving up. Even though I am attempting to live a recovered lifestyle, I feel as if I am constantly slipping. I’ll have a good week of being in a good mood, eating, being the real me when I’m out and socializing, but then I start restricting again and spending a night laying on the couch feeling nothing. And I don’t know why I can’t get myself to get up off the couch and to make dinner. Why it seems impossible to hold onto the version of myself that strives to continue recovery. 

Lately I’ve been the version of myself that makes it possible for a relapse to happen. I haven’t been eating much at all. I’ve been finding it easier to go a full work day without eating, just having my head tell me to keep pushing on with clients and to forget about food. When I tried to get myself to eat two meals in one day I found myself on my bed feeling unable to move full of fear. And then when I recognized having that reaction to dinner, I became paralyzed with a different kind of fear. It is this confusion about if I have the strength to recover or if I am the weakness of relapse that continues to push and pull me to and away from a healthy life. Even now as I am typing this, I am eating a package of crackers instead of a lunch because I am unable to choose between food and restriction. 

I’m hitting another wall again where my brain is giving up on thinking.  I just spent the last seven minutes looking at the skin on the back of my right hand while trying to find it in me to keep on typing. I don’t really know what drives me to almost dissociate in a way where the rest of the world falls away and all that is left is the emptiness in my brain and the image of the cracks on my skin and the thin blue outline of the vein underneath. I could feel my heart pumping the blood in that vein I could see but even though I can feel my heart and the life within me I can't feel my brain and the life in there. 

I’ve turned my attention to my bedroom window displaying the millions of flakes gracefully landing on the ground outside. I think that it is this that is causing my brain to go dormant. The snow is meant to be pure but all I can see is how it is voiding the world of any other color. I desperately just want to see the other colors that nature can show my brain. I want to see the vibrant green of the grass after a mid afternoon rain shower. I want to see the purples, pinks, and yellows of the flowers blooming alongside the dark blue of the water moving freely after the snow has melted it’s icy surface away. I want to see the color gold as the sun hits my skin. The whiteness of this world is making my mind go blank of feelings and thoughts. 

When I think about my life I can’t help but feel no joy. Everything feels so monotone and listless. The days seem long and draining with nothing to give me a burst of energy. The urge to draw an object across my skin is sinking into a familiar force within my brain. The thought that I am alone is becoming stronger and sharper. I know that there is more to it than the white flakes falling outside my window. It’s the lack of nutrition that isn't going to my brain. It is the insecurity that I am not good enough. It is the confusion about who I am and who I will be in the future and who I will be with. It is the worst version of myself gaining more and more power and leading me down the well worn path. 

So, B, why are you not fighting back? What is still stopping you from defeating this version of yourself once and for all? 

[bethanigoodrum]

It

It all begins with the sudden rush of consciousness as the brain is aware of the racing heart that is betraying the dark and calm atmosphere in bed. The memory of eating 6 tacos surfaces and even though it was just a dream, it’s impossible to send that message to the rest of the body that this isn't the reason for the fat to feel overwhelming in perception.  

It approaches again when there is a pause between getting ready for the day and needing to leave. In the silent free time waiting on the clock to turn It finds me and takes out the ability to feel able to leave the couch. The clock approaches the time but the ability to move the right muscles to get up has not come with the time. There is no reason to get up because It has taken over the command center in my brain and deleted the file labeled “motivation.” 

It’s there again for the briefest period right before I open the skills room door and need to replace who I am with my professional self. The flash of wanting to close the door and melt away on the rug to abandon all responsibilities and my own being emerges before its dashed away with the reaching for the door. 

It’s gone for awhile and the professional self is in full control of the command room. There is no room for It to flicker It’s melancholy messages around. But then It comes back when my hand reaches out for the door to home releasing the professional self from it’s duties. It’s pulling It’s forces to guide me back to the quicksand pit that is my couch. Once my body touches the surface It has me in It’s clutches again and turns every idea of what to do into a task that feels as fun and meaningful as watching paint dry. The thought of picking up a book feels like empty words floating on a page, the thought of food feels like empty calories ready to turn into enemy soldiers. The thought of reaching out to the world and communicating seems like an empty cry. 

The idea of turning away from the rest of the world is what seems appealing. The idea of turning away from myself seems even more appealing. 

I sit here and just staring at nothing makes my vision go blurry and dizzy. My heart is pulsating at such a quick rate that does not match the rest of my body. My head wants to stop, pause, and end. My skin crawls for some form of release. It has had a hold on me all day and this numbness that It has delivered for me has made me want to shed a tear or bring about a form of pain just to recognize It’s presence. 

But I have nothing for It except for my thoughts, every quick beat of my heart and my devoted time for this evening. 

So, It, even though you have already grabbed both of my hands for this dance tonight, please let me go after you’ve had your fun twirling me around in the ways you desire. After this last dance let me go home alone without you spending the night again. Please.

[bethanigoodrum]

It’s eating disorder awareness week and although this is meant to be a week to inform the world about the intensity and legitimacy of eating disorders, I can’t help but feel disappointed when I scroll through social media. It’s only Monday and I’ve already seen two friends on Facebook post pictures from when they were struggling the most and describe their lowest weights. They do this with a positive message following trying to impress upon people how horrible having an eating disorder is but how with weight change they are so much better. I see this and I just can’t help but think that their message, although well intended, just falls flat and disappoints the eating disorder community as a whole. 

I’ve posted before and after pictures on social media before so I understand the courage it takes and the primary intentions I had while posting. But at the time I was posting those pictures I felt that I needed to have the before picture because I wanted people to see how sick I had been. I wanted to feel validated. Because if I just posted a picture of me now or wrote about my eating disorder without pictures, would people really think of me as someone who used to be sick? No, they wouldn't have that shocked experience of seeing me so skinny, and it was that shock and that idea of “wow Bethani was really sick” that I wanted from others. I wanted them to see me skinny. And that isn't me being recovered. 

I see people I know doing the same thing on social media posting all of their images of them being super skinny and I can’t help but think that what they are obtaining from posting that is validation that they were sick. They get the comments saying how proud people are of them for recovering and not being like that anymore. But the kicker is that when they get comments like that their brain is told that people now have seen and also believe that they were skinny. They are acknowledged as having been sick. And even though most of us in recovery no longer want to be sick, the idea that we truly are seen as having been sick fuels the eating disorder. It’s like winning the eating disorder award of having been “sick enough”. It’s not healthy. 

There isn't anything healthy or positive that can occur with someone posting their sick pictures. Regardless of whether or not the person gets validation of their illness from others, it is the others that are seeing the pictures that can further create negativity upon all of this. The messages that the people obtain when they see sick pictures online of their friends is that in order to have an eating disorder the person had to have been really skinny. That to be sick is to be skinny. Anorexia is known to be the privileged and ideal eating disorder in the ED community. When I was in treatment I ran across fellow clients who longed to struggle in a similar way as me. They wished that they had symptoms of restriction rather than binge or purge. They struggled with the idea that they can’t be sick because they weren't skinny enough for the rest of the world to acknowledge because they didn’t fit the stereotype of an eating disorder. And with everyone this week posting their pictures that highlight how skinny they were is only going to continue to reinforce the world that to be sick is to be skinny. 

By using numbers and posting the before pictures, it can affect the people who see it who also have an eating disorder. I know that for me seeing all of the sick pictures can trigger my mind and remind me of my own unhealthy weights. I see someone writing about how they were this certain weight in this certain picture and no matter how recovered I think I am, upon seeing that my mind instantly wants to go back to when I looked like that. The comparison that happens among people with eating disorders is so common and all that sick pictures do for the others in the community is to think about how it compares to their own sickness. Someone with an eating disorder might see their friends post with all the numbers and ribcage showing and think that because their friend appears sicker that that invalidates their own eating disorder and that could further prevent them from realizing how sick they are and how treatment is needed. 

There should be no need to have our eating disorders proved and validated by others. The sick pictures will do no good on social media, even if you think that your personal journey will shed light to the rest of the world. I want to see everyone writing about how the eating disorder changed their mind and their life in a way that doesn't highlight the body. Because an eating disorder is a mental disorder, how much weight someone loses or gains is only a symptom of the disorder, its not the full picture. And words can show so much more of the pain that the disorder caused rather than a picture. Pictures do not show the story, so do not limit your story to just a picture. I think that if people spent this week deleting their sick pictures, they and the rest of the community and the world will be so much better off and healthier. And that is what this week should be all about; health. 

[bethanigoodrum]

Growing up I never saw my parents act in a way that showed that they were anything other than two people put together to raise children. The roles they played always gravitated around my brother and I or surrounded their professional lives. I never thought it was strange that my parents preferred to never sit on the same couch together or sleep in the same bed. To me it was normal that my dad lived downstairs, escaping from his parenting duties once dinner was completed. It was normal to not hear my parents tell each other that they love one another and to have my mom have the bed to herself most nights. I grew up hearing my mom telling me that she views my dad as a housemate rather than a husband and my dad telling me he never fell in love and settled for my mom. At the time those comments settled in the back of my head and I didn’t think much of them. Because it was just my parents love life, I didn’t think their lack of feelings had anything to do with me. But those comments have been making their way towards the front of my brain lately and I can’t help but wonder that maybe I can't love someone, just as my parents can’t love each other. 

I have a date tonight with a guy who seems really into me, and instead of feeling excited about it I just want to run from him and this opportunity. And I think the reason why almost every nerve in my body is in flight mode is because I am afraid of what this situation might tell me about myself. I’m not even really scared of the actual date, i know that I can handle watching a movie while hanging out on the couch together and everything that a movie date at my house might entail, but I’m scared of everything that comes after. I like this guy, we have good banter, he’s intelligent and likes similar things I do, but I don’t have many strong feelings. When he kissed me nothing really happened inside of me. I just drove home and went to bed and didn’t really have many thoughts or feelings about him. I liked his company in the moments when i was directly with him but when I’m not with him I have no underlying feelings of wanting to be with him or text him back. And I think that knowing this builds the fear that what I might have with him if this continues is just half love. What if what I feel for him and what i felt for Joel is the most that I can feel towards someone? What if the best I can do is to just settle like my dad did and learn how to live with someone who doesn't make me feel as if I wouldn't know what to do or how to live without them?

Because I want that. I want to meet someone and feel as if by just making their acquittance my life has gotten more exciting. I want to have the feeling of wanting to be with them when I am alone or to want the day to never end and have an urge to never have to get out of the car and say goodbye. I want this person to consume my thoughts and to catch myself thinking about what they might be doing or wondering what their favorite pair of socks were when they were 10 because even though that information isn't important, the idea of knowing so much about them thrills me. I want someone who makes me feel excited and comfortable to be vulnerable with them and who makes my intimacy fears feel like something that I can't only conquer but can learn to out grow them. I want someone who I want to sleep next to and who I want to get past my triggers for. I want someone who I simply want to intertwine my life with, without a single thought that doing so is draining. 

I’m sitting here trying to think about what it would be like to have Collin sleep in bed with me some nights of the week. Or what it would be like to open up and share personal things about myself or know personal things about him and I just can’t find it in me to feel excited about it. When I think about him taking up time, presence, and energy in my life it feels more like a draining of energy than a boost of energy and potential love possibility. It scares me that I haven't been able to find what I crave in any guy and I feel that Collin has so many check marks checked off on my list of what I am attracted to and if I can’t feel more for him, am I going to feel more for anyone out there?? 

I know that I have only known him for a couple weeks and that i deserve more time with him to figure out if there is a chance for more feelings to develop and that is why I am still standing my ground and letting this date happen rather than run for the hills and wave my white flag in fear. But I am so terrified that continuing this with him will result in only half love and that getting to know him and be with him will never cease to feel more like a chore than a desire. 

What if I am broken just like my parents marriage? 

[bethanigoodrum]

It can be so frustrating to be sitting here half a year after treatment and to still feel the disorder so strongly. I wasn't even expecting a full on visit from it tonight; I was just trying to treat myself to something special for dinner to cope with the depression. I didn’t have my guard up for it to join up with the depression and make a duo appearance. But came it did. I can still smell the onions and meat in the air and the taste will not wash away after drinking an entire liter of juice. It’s like it is in me destroying all of my defense mechanisms just coaxing me to do whatever I can to get it out. It’s just my brain though. I have to remember that. I just want it out and gone but I can’t because how can one destroy it’s command center in the brain? Which means I just want to do what I can to get rid of the brain. To silence it, distract it, anything. 

It only took about 5 minutes after eating for it to power up to full throttle and for my brain to send the shame and discomfort throughout my body. It was like my brain was just charging ahead of me while everything else was stuck in place frozen in fear and disgust. Then my body caught up with the brain and with that came the tears, the pacing, the punching. 

In the moment it never feels as if I have 6 months of recovery under my belt. It just feels like this overwhelming emotion of the inability to escape or cope. Everything I learned goes out of my head and the old thoughts and habits rush in and flood every muscle and thought. Treatment never cured me of the onsets of panic attacks. It didn’t take away all the pain and shame that I feel. It didn’t kill this disorder.  The knowledge of that while experiencing the panic can lead to a cycle of so many thoughts wanting to do whatever I can so I never have to feel this again. But what treatment did do was teach me how to hang on and ride the feelings for just a little bit longer than what I had previously believed was possible. Beforehand I would have given into all of the negative feelings and thoughts with not even a glance at trying to overcome them but now I can take five minutes at a time until the crisis is at a level that feels manageable. I can believe that there can be another ending than the simplicity of my own end. 

It’s frustrating whenever my mental health flares up in a way that reminds me of who I used to be. There is always that initial thought that after all the work I have put into my recovery nothing within me has changed. And it’s true that my disorders still take on the same pain and invoke the same emotions within. But each time I am able to successfully ride out the crisis I start to feel just a bit more confident that in time the intensity of the panic attacks and depressive episodes will dim and I can emerge from this still breathing. 

I was so scared tonight and I’m still scared for all of the times that will be similar to this in the future, but I have hope now, and that’s new. And more than that I have skills, and the fact that I opened up my computer to type this out and ending it on a positive note is proof of those skills truly working. 

[bethanigoodrum]

I usually have words. I have so many words it takes up minutes for your eyes to absorb their meaning. But I have nothing now. And my eyes can’t seem to absorb anything other than the white paint 3 inches down from the light switch.  I don't even know if I’m absorbing that everything is all just so blank. 

I hope my words come back to me soon.

[bethanigoodrum]

A Glimpse

The short story of how today went was that I bought a new pair of pants and had baked lasagna for dinner. But with an eating disorder, the story is never that simple. Here is an intimate unfiltered look at what went on inside my brain during the shopping excursion and dinner. From the outside perspective I had a successful day with no behaviors but the short story fails to show the raw reality that recovery is. This is my attempt to show the true effort that goes behind having a successful day. 

The automatic doors slide shut blocking out the chilly blast of the Wisconsin winter wind that I had just emerged from. I am suddenly immersed in the bright lights and warmth that Target offers as a refuge from the cold night. But although I greet the warmth readily, this refuge only offers me a growing sense of anxiety. The urge to turn around and return to the frigid air appears in the forefront of the brain. But I can't turn around. I have to buy these pants for the interview and there is no other time to do so.  I think about going towards the book section and letting my eyes wander over new covers that bring about hope for a future exciting adventure, but no, I can't, procrastinating will only delay the inevitable. Might as well just get it over with and hurry back out to the true safety of my car. My legs bring me to the jean section against the protests of my brain. Its the small number printed on the blue stickers that have brought about this internal battle inside me. I stand in front of the promising pants and let my eyes and brain focus on the pair with the number * on the sticker. I want so badly to reach up and grab them and just walk away calling the shopping experience a success. But that trick isn't good enough for my brain. I know that no matter how easy it would be to pretend, hope, and push away the thoughts of recovery, my body will speak for itself. The thought of facing up to the fact that I will no longer fit into size * is what I have been dreading since I first walked out of Rogers Behavioral Hospital in August. Buying the next size up feels so much like a lost battle to my brain even though I know that my supporters will say that this new size represents health rather than a loss. I can try to tell myself that this is a good thing, but standing there facing the new size feels like anything but health. That number is just a foot away from me; teasing me. I know I need to grab it but I just can't get myself to do it. I don't want to lose the battle just yet. Maybe if I try it on I’ll find that it is too big and I can return happily back to the shelf to grab my familiar and comfortable size. Yes, I’ll do that. The battle is not over yet. But I should've known that taking on another fight would only lead me into the face of more struggle. How could I forget about the enemy of the mirror awaiting for me behind the closed door? I try to avoid it but it has this way to just draw you in. The first thing I focus on is my face. Is that disgusting thing reflecting back to me actually me? How can I ever be hired when I look this ugly, surly they will take one look at me and decide that they can do better. Did I seriously go all day in public looking this dreadful? Is this what people see every time they look at me? How do I ever have friends when I look like this? These are negative thoughts B, focus on the eyes, those are what are important, can you see the warmth and kindness in them? No, all I see is disgust and emptiness. My gaze travels down below my neck. I can't even look at my stomach, it’s nothing like how it used to be. I keep on thinking that I’ll see a flat stomach whenever I look down and it never fails to catch me off guard when I see how much I have changed and how much weight I have put on. I keep my eyes going downwards hoping to find something that’ll make me feel okay about myself. My gaze gets paralyzed on my thighs. They look double the size, how could they have gotten that big in only a few months? Maybe it’s just the mirror, yeah that’s gotta be it, theres a simple way to test it. Just gotta see that thigh gap and everything will be all better. I can breathe. I turn facing the mirror and put my feet together waiting for the relief to flood over me. Except, why isn't there a gap?? No, this can't be right, I’ve never not had one. I can't live with my thighs touching. The test failed which means that what I’m seeing is all true. This is how I look. I can't look like this. I have to go home and exercise right away. Forget getting dinner, it’s been all the dinners that have done this. I can’t eat dinner anymore I have to get that thigh gap back. Yes, I just have to leave this dressing room and go home so I can go work out. I gather up the pants and reluctantly tell the employee that I will be keeping them even though I hate to see that one number being scanned and swiping my card to pay for it. I get back into the sanctuary of my car that only 15 minutes earlier I couldn't wait to enter. But I can't breathe easy like i thought, this is no longer the sanctuary I thought it would be. I can't help but notice how the seatbelt feels against my stomach. It didn’t use to feel like this. I can feel my thighs just expanding on the seat taking up so much room. I can't breathe. I have this sudden thought enter my head that the best way to solve this is to take my fist and show my thighs how I feel about them. Maybe then I won't be able to feel them. But no, I can't, just wait until I get home, there are tools there. Breathe, just make it home. I pull out of the parking lot with the intention of going home but I hit a red light and it is there that I see the lights of Fazoli’s reminding me of the plans that I had had before Target to stop there for dinner. I have a full minute of waiting at the lights  to have the thoughts of my friends reminding me to eat swirl around in my head. Just this morning you told someone that you'd been doing well with food. Just this afternoon you told yourself you want to put all your energy into recovery. You can't do this new job while engaging in self harm and restricting. This isn't who you want to be, B. And then there is a blinding green light that takes over the night and instead of taking a right turn home I am guided to the drive thru with the sense of knowing that i am doing the right thing but hating the decision as soon as it is too late to go towards the highway. I get to the drive thru lane but there are still two cars in front of me which prolongs my impulsive decision to eat. I’m not thinking about the good smell of breadsticks wafting through the air or the delicious options on the menu screen, the only thing I can think about is how I am continuing to ruin the thigh gap. I put all of my attention on the feel of my thighs against the leather and I don't even notice that the other cars have pulled ahead and it is my turn to order. I order the lasagna but my head is screaming at me to order the side salad. Once I have ordered it I know that I will eat it. The idea of restriction is out the window and I am frustrated at myself for not being strong enough to skip dinner tonight. But I also know that I made the right decision and I am tempted to text someone about this victory solely with the hope that maybe their proudness in me will motivate me and help me feel better for eating it. But I don't because doing so would make me look pathetic. Why would anyone be proud of me for eating a meal I am meant to eat. I get home and I eat all of it, again to the disappointment of my brain. I could've just ate half and thrown away the other half, why did I have to eat all of it? The meal sits in me and the taste lingers in my mouth reminding me of the struggle that this one meal was. I try and wash it away with water but there is nothing that can wash away the feel of the food in me. I could purge. The idea is tempting, but a new behavior is not something I can put myself through. I could self harm, at least then I’m not focused on the food. I look at the tool sitting on the end table. I think about what it would be like to use it and give up with all of the mental strain that trying has given me. I could just so easily let this night fade into old habits. But then yet again the thoughts of recovery float to the surface begging for a night of health. And so the idea of writing it all out slowly creeps in and overrides the self harm urge. I tear my eyes away from the tool and instead grab for my computer, open it up, and start typing the thoughts that have plagued me all night. I sit here almost three hours after the purchase of the pants and food and I am still filled with so much hatred for my body. How do people get through this stage of recovery? How am I going to be able to live inside of a body that gives me so much anxiety and produces so much disgust? The feeling of living inside this body stays with me every second of every day which means that there is never a break from recovery. Sometimes I just want a break. I just want a gap. But I have to breathe. I have to recover. 

[bethanigoodrum]

Sexuality

For the past couple of years I’ve been causally saying that I don't really know what my sexuality is, and its true, I have no idea. If I was pushed to label myself I would have to say that I’m queer but I prefer saying I'm ambiguous. When I was in high school I was having some thoughts that maybe I’m not totally straight but I pushed all of those thoughts to the back of my brain because the idea of being with someone of the same sex scared me. I wanted to be straight so I only really filtered in “straight” thoughts and didn’t let myself think about any other possibility. I don't really care now, though. I’ve been slowly allowing myself to process all of the thoughts that I never allowed myself to think in high school and I’ve been starting to verbalize the thoughts more and more. 

I know that I am physically attracted to men. And I haven't really had an issue of going on dates and even being in a relationship with a guy because I am able to have sex with men without emotional attraction. Granted, my relationship did ultimately fail because I was missing the emotional attraction side of the equation. When I was with Joel it felt like there was just this gap that was missing in how I felt and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't emotionally connect with him. We had a lot of good banter and plenty of good times together but the banter always felt like it had more of a physical aspect to it than an emotional one. When I looked at him and interacted with him it was physically driven. I didn’t look at him and get this feeling of being so intrigued by who he was as a human or get all warm on the inside when he would just hold me or joke with me. I never really possessed an inner longing to truly know him and I never wanted to immerse him with my life in a way that people in love do. I never felt the warm tingling in my heart when I saw his name pop up on my phone or read over our conversations late into the night filled with joy at the conversation and his reply of “I love you”. And ultimately I never would just long to spend an entire day with him, just the two of us, in our own company. The loving emotions were just not there. I have felt emotionally connected and simply excited about a guy once in my life, so I know that I have the ability to feel that way towards men, but that relationship was years ago and decently PG. My adult self has not been able to find that emotional attraction combined with physical attraction. 

And with women I have felt some emotional connectedness. When I read books or watch movies it is always the female characters that I find myself gravitating towards. If there is a scene with a woman in it I will most likely spend the whole scene looking at her. I want to know about the woman, and even if she is not the star in the film, she is always the main star in my eyes. When I see women in public I am always drawn to them more than men. I find women physically pretty and admire their features but although I admire physical attributes just as much as I do with men, I never see a woman and think about what it would be like to touch her breast or anywhere else on her body. I admire beauty with women, but what I am most interested in is who they actually are. Women just intrigue me so much. I get this feeling of wanting to know women so much more intimately than men. I want to know their life story, their fears, what makes them smile. When I see a man that is attractive I get none of these feelings. I don't necessarily want to know anything about him or want to have a truly deep conversation with him. Sure, I am attracted to him, but in the initial meeting of a guy, I don't want to connect on a deep level. 

But the issue that makes it hard for me to know if I am at least bisexual is that I have never had the urge to have sex with a woman. Sometimes I’ve thought about what it would be like to kiss a girl or to hold hands in a romantic way but thats about it. I’ve never had any desire to go farther. And I don't think I ever would go farther just to test things out with some random person. I feel like the only way for a physical attraction for women to develop is if the emotional connection is so powerful and the love is real that I will want to explore more of the relationship and extend the emotional connection. But I don't know if I am at the point where I am willing to let myself fall for a woman. It still in a way scares me somehow. I don’t mind the idea of being in love with a girl though.  I honestly believe that it is easier to love women, because let’s face it, women are so much better than men in basically every way. I love the kindness, the depth and the resilence of women so much. And I know that I feel a lot more comfortable around women than men. If I had to choose to spend a night out with women or men I would hands down always choose to be around women. But what scares me about women is that I don't know how to be anything other than friends with women. I’ve only ever had physical relationships with men, and so the idea of putting myself in a situation where i wouldn't know what to do and probably be awkward rather than sexy turns me off from even wanting to try. 

And even if I did feel confident enough to try, I still don't truly know if I am attracted to women. Like, yeah, women are intriguing as hell and I always find myself drawn to being around women rather than men, but does that mean that I am attracted to women? Being intrigued and wanting to get to know women are also characteristics of developing and building friendships. I’ve never had sexual thoughts about my friends but I definitely enjoy spending my time with them and want to know who they are on a deep level. I guess what I struggle with is understanding the difference between normal friendship feelings and the more complex feelings of being queer/bi. 

I guess I’ll end this with a little scenario. A couple nights ago I was out at the bars and I didn’t pay attention to any guys. It was like my brain just skipped over processing any information of potential attractive men because I just did not care. But there was this one girl that really stuck out to me and my gaze kept wandering over to her and I was intrigued about who she was and I wanted the chance to know her more fully. This happens to me all the time and I don't really know what it means. 

So am I attracted to girls? Or is it just that I have this thing about me where I don't really care about guys that much and I really care about creating friendships with women? Am I not emotionally attracted to guys because one of them hurt me really badly and I can't get close because of that? Am I intrigued by women just simply because they are easier to connect with and have more depth to them? Am I straight? 

The only thing I know is that it is all just so fucking ambiguous. And I’m okay with that. All of this shows me just how fluid sexuality is and how the black and white answer I am looking for is most likely impossible. For now, I am just going to continue processing and accepting what is in my heart. 

[bethanigoodrum]

If you were to ask me how I have been recently I honestly don't think I would know how to answer that. 

Before I went to Pittsburgh I knew that my eating disorder was not exactly level 10 on the recovery scale but I thought I was doing alright. Sure, there were some days when I couldn't even handle looking in the mirror because a glimpse of my image sent my brain into self harm mode, and yeah sure, the thoughts of my thighs and stomach were not positive, but other than that I was fine, right? But then Pittsburgh happened and I was forced into seeing my eating disorder in all the raw reality that it is and I was forced to truly see my struggle as it is. Eating a full plate of breakfast was challenging. Eating a bag of microwave popcorn at 11pm when I had supplemented my meal plan for liquid calories the entire day was a challenge. Eating one noodle during thanksgiving dinner resulted in tears being shed. Eating meals at times my body wasn't used to proved to be almost impossible. And eating new foods sent my body into an instant panic attack. Everything about food threw me back to the panic and struggle of pretreatment meals. During the 4 months between treatment and thanksgiving I had given up on challenging myself, eating around others, and eating my full meal plan. So when pushed to eat the necessary calories my body went down screaming and kicking and refusing. 

But I know now. I know that I have to put in more work in order to make up for setbacks. And since Pittsburgh I’ve made sure to eat, and to eat fully. I’ve challenged myself to eating my biggest fear food twice in one week. I had two desserts in the same day. And I made food a priority on days when I worked through the lunch hour instead of just skipping it when I had a free second to spare. So in that sense I’ve been doing really well. And I’m so incredibly proud of myself for my accomplishments this week in that area. I’ve also noticed that I’ve been feeling hungrier for food this week and a large part of me feels that I have been overeating (probably not though) and whenever I do feel hungry now my first thoughts are always how I can make the hunger stop and go away and how eating is dangerous when I am hungry, because again, what if I eat more than the minimum required?? But I’ve still been able to push those thoughts towards the back of my mind and eat. I’ll take that as an accomplishment.

So to answer the question that started this post- I’m okay. I’m making progress in recovery. Everything is going as well as to be hoped for. 

But then there is the depression. It’s been getting progressively bad lately. I’ve been trying to not put a lot of thought into it because it scares me, but its getting to the point where it is demanding to be felt and given attention to. So here you go depression, this is your proof of acknowledgment. I feel you. For the past couple of days it has crept up as soon as the sun has set and has stayed with me through the night letting me know how pointless everything is. I’ve been doing my best to distract myself from the emptiness that embodies me and I have been able to thought challenge the haunting whispers of the futility of recovery and life in general. And in this sense this is a huge improvement from last year. Last year when I felt the emptiness creep in I gave myself fully to it. I let the thoughts run wild. Suicide? yep, lets go for it. Self harm? already got the tool ready to go lets do this. But now I’ve been pretty successful at stopping the thoughts and containing control on the emptiness. Most days I’ve even been able to feel it, and then expel it after a few hours. So much progress!!! I know how to put in the effort to have a relatively stable mood. But the thing is, that requires tremendously true effort. I have to be actively pushing away the longing to give up and give in to the depression every day. Last night I was awake until 1am just laying in bed filled with thoughts of to self harm or not to self harm. For hours I went back and forth almost teasing my self destructive brain before I was able to put a stop to it. A lot of the time it all just feels too much. Recovery is hard. My life feels almost listless. I just want to say fuck it all. I haven't really been able to talk to people about this when I feel this way though. I just don't know how to reach out because I worry that they will worry that I am on a spiral like how I was last year. If I tell someone I’m thinking about giving up they might ask me if they need to call the cops on me. I’m not like last year. I’m not actively wanting to die. But it’s still difficult to breathe through these moments of struggle and its even harder feeling like I can't allow myself to talk to people about it. I feel like I can only reach out if I’m actively in a crisis because thats all I was last year. I know I can trust my friends to react appropriately and supportively to the situation, but I just can't help worrying about their worry. 

Another component that is contributing to the depression and all of these feelings is my job. I just really fucking hate it. I feel that one of the hardest things is that I spend 40 hours a week just standing and watching another person perform. It’s just so much time in my own head with little accomplishment of my own. I just got out of college, I want to see what I can do, I want to have something to perform at, but instead I just problem solve and observe. I also feel that it is an incredibly lonely job. I’m an introvert but at heart I love social interaction. But this job just doesn't allow what I crave. When I’m with Connie it is total silence and limited communication that is restricted to me pointing at the room we need to clean or showing her a hair she left in the tub. My other clients are also very limited with conversation due to cognitive impairments. I feel like I’m missing out on joking and having adult level conversations with others and it’s impacting me. I just don't have fulfilling social connections at work and when I go home its just me, myself, and I some more. And I think that when that is your life it is all just a bit emotionally draining and intense. I think I just need to be able to spend my time doing something exciting and fulfilling with the ability to interact with people who have the ability to interact with me. It’s an easy fix. I just need to get a new job. I just have to realize that loyalty is not healthy for me in this circumstance. 

So with all of that said, am I doing alright? I’m eating, I’m fighting off the depression. But god do I fear for the worst (it’s all good though no worries) 

[bethanigoodrum]

Trust & Distrust

I took a personality test last night (one of many, I kind of have a problem when it comes to these things) and I unsurprisingly was given the result of a person who is essentially the epitome of anxiety and insecurity. But more specifically the anxiety stems from the longing of wanting to believe in someone, to trust someone and to have loyal relationships with others based on that trust. However, because the personality is so affixed with anxiety and insecurity, the kinds of relationships that the person is longing for are incredibly difficult to believe in. The trust is just simply unable to be believed in. Fuck. That just sounds like such a double edged sword. Where is the win-win, (or at least one win) personality?? Come on now. 

For as long as I can remember, I haven't trusted my friends. Because 1) why would anyone want to spend their time with me and love me. I am not worth anyones time. I am not funny. I am not fun. I am a bit of a bore combined with a complicated and mentally ill brain. And 2) I have watched people come and go out of my life. Trust is hard. 

And before you guys start yelling at me through your own screens about all the flaws in these sentences I just want you to know that, yes, I know. I know that I am not a shitty person. Sometimes I make a funny comment. I’m kind. I’m caring. And I know that I have opinions and passions that make me something above being a bit of a bore. And I also understand that, yes, people do come in and out of our lives and that is something to be viewed as a natural and good phenomena rather than a reason to distrust people. I know that when a friendship fades it just means that one or both people have grown and changed and that the moment in time of you both laughing about anything or nothing on your bedroom floor is no longer plausible because those people are no longer in existence. But that is a good thing. Because better and different versions of those people have grown in place and its okay. I get it. I know it. But sometimes it is hard for my head to believe it. 

For the people who are reading this right now I just want you to know that there was a time in our past when I did not trust you. It wasn't because I didn’t want to trust you though. God, I thought you were so cool. I desperately wanted for the friendship to blossom and bloom. And as each week, month, and year went on and you were still in my life I would continually ask myself “why?!?” “How is it that they are still trying and putting in effort?” My brain would always do this fun thing by telling me that you were most likely only continuing to be in my life because you knew how fucked up I was and you people are good people and could not find it in you to abandon ship and leave me alone in my despair. I literally thought that my only value for others was their pity for me. I couldn't think of any other reason as to why I have value in the lives of others. And for as long as I can remember, that has been my mindset of myself and the relationships that I have. And with this mindset always came the idea that one day they will give up and they will leave. There was no trust. There was care and love towards you, but no true understanding of the friendship. 

When I got back from treatment one of the first things I did was have dinner with Sam. We have had plenty of meals together over our years of friendship, however this dinner felt different for the both of us. It was like I was finally awake and had bloomed after years of being dried up in the dark soil. And with my own awakening our friendship was able to fully bloom in the way that we hadn't felt until then. Sam described it as finally feeling as if we were mutuals and on the same level with one another. I’ve had time to think about this and I think that this new feeling in our friendship comes from this new sense of trust within myself and for others. I know that when she says I love you to me, she means it. When she talks to me it is because she actually wants to and the amount of care she has put into my mental health isn't her not wanting to have a guilty conscience. She simply cares about me. And with all of this I am beginning to feel as if I deserve her love and that I have the kind of worth that makes her want to stay friends with me. I trust her but I also trust in myself. What a concept I know. I’m still getting used to it a bit. 

Earlier in this post I wrote that at one point in our friendship I did distrust you. The key word is did. I have never felt so good about the people in my life as I have in the past couple of months. I don’t have many people in my corner but the people that I do have I know are good. You are solid. I am so happy to have you in my life but more importantly I trust you. When you text me to make plans I am able to believe that it is because you actually can enjoy my presence in your life. I am more than a pity case. The effort you have put in this friendship over the years means something. I mean something. 

I love you. And I am so appreciative for the amount of time you have stayed by my side while I was filled with doubt and constantly asking for validation from you that went in one ear, was processed by the fucked up brain, and thrown back out the other ear as ridicules. 

Now, I don’t want this to seem negative after all of this positive growth, but I do want to say that if we do fade and I lose what our friendship is as of right now, thank you for taking a ride on my bus. Let me explain that better. Life is a bus ride. There is a limited number of seats on my bus and it is going in the direction of where my life needs to go. Right now all of you reading this currently have seats on my bus and it is such a good ride that we are on right now. But we are all headed to different places. And so if you have to get off my bus to get on another one that will take you where your life is headed, then I understand that and I praise you for taking that stop off to grow. I no longer have distrust for the end of my friendships. If it happens then I know why it did and I can accept it and support it. So I hope you're enjoying the ride on my bus right now as much as I am. If you have to get off feel free to send a christmas card with your family on it or send an email or give me a call to check up on our lives. I trust it. I trust myself. And I trust you. 

[bethanigoodrum]

Abortion

I was scrolling through facebook the other day and I came across a confession post of a woman stating that she had just had an abortion. It caught my eye and I starting reading through the comments against my better judgment. And unsurprisingly I saw comments saying “you should've been focusing on your degree rather than opening up your legs”, “you’re disgusting”, “If you can’t handle the repercussions of sex then you shouldn't be so irresponsible to have it in the first place”, “well aren't you just a real cunt”, “your mother should have done the same to you” and more of the same negative shit. I know that abortion is a tricky subject and that there will always be people with strong opinions such as that. And it didn't really affect me too much. But it made me think about how these are the messages I grew up with that originated from my family. It wasn't quite as crude as some of the comments online but I was told that it would reflect my own irresponsibleness if I could not handle the dangers of sex in the “correct” manner. And I was also told that I could never let my mom know about the abortion because it would break her heart with the knowledge that my soul is now destined for hell and that she would never be able to see me again after her death. All of these messages really reflect the image that it is the woman’s fault for having an unwanted pregnancy and that she has done something so terrible by having sex and utilizing the rights of her body.  And I guess with this post I just want to talk about how I became one of those “cunts”. My therapist in treatment gave me the assignment of processing anger and to express it and I hope that with this post I am able to take the anger off of myself and create a better understanding of how I feel about the situation and those involved. 

Because I do feel anger about this. I feel a lot of it. Before these last few weeks I always put a lot of the blame on myself for ending up pregnant. I would always think “it’s your fault for not forcing Joel to always wear a condom” or “it’s your fault for not getting the birth control prescription refilled before the doctor went on vacation, you could have prevented this”. And even though those thoughts are true, because I could have done more to prevent what happened, the blame is not all on me. Joel shares the blame and I have never allowed myself to feel upset at him for his role in the pregnancy until now. My friend asked me a few weeks ago if Joel had ever apologized to me for putting me in the situation that he did and with that question I realized that he never had. I’m not angry at him for not apologizing though. I’m angry at him for all of the actions he did that helped lead to the pregnancy. I’m so incredibly angry at him for starting off sex with a condom but then stopping and telling me that he wouldn't continue with it on. He put me in the position of trying to find the willpower to stop it all when every nerve in my body was saying to continue. And I know that I am to blame for letting him continue on but he always assured me that he knew what he was doing and that his pull out game never resulted in a pregnancy before and that he wouldn't do anything to hurt me. But him taking off that condom did hurt me. He did it so often that I could never trust him by asking him to wear a condom. I feel that he didn't respect me enough to sacrifice the better feeling of going without a condom. 

I am so angry at him for the ways that he manipulated me in order to have more sex and the type of sex that he wanted. I feel so disrespected by him that he would hear my no for going again and he would disregard that and manipulate certain body parts and coax me until I relented and agreed to his wishes. I feel violated that he told me that he wanted to come inside of me even though I was not on birth control that month. That he again, kept on pushing me until I gave up and agreed because I felt so powerless even though it put me in a very bad position. I had to take the morning after pill which caused painful cramps simply because he thought it was sexy to have his cum inside me and that it felt better than pulling out. 

Two years ago Kong took my voice away from me when it came to sexual acts. He made it so that my voice was powerless to his desires and he has made me feel as if my voice doesn't matter. And I believe that this powerlessness that I feel carried into my relationship with Joel and I did not fight back much after Joel’s persuasions. Joel did not take my voice in the way that Kong did though. But Joel failed in making me feel as if my voice is important and valued. My opinion didn't seem important when going once or even twice wasn't enough for him. My opinion didn't matter when I didn’t want to have unprotected sex and my opinion didn't matter when I didn't want him to come in me. I didn’t learn from that relationship that when I voiced out what I desired, that it was equally valued as what Joel desired. I knew that I could keep on saying no, but I never truly believed that my no was respected in the way that it was supposed to be. And so I gave up. 

And knowing this, I know that for my next relationship to be healthy, I need to make my voice heard. I need to respect myself and my desires and not give into my partners desires. Because if I don't, then I risk the same fate that I had with Joel. 

So after all of that, am I an irresponsible bitch that didn't take sex as seriously as it is and acted recklessly and selfishly? I don’t think that I am. I think what this boils down to is the fact that there were two people having sex that both did not show a lot of respect. I didn't respect myself enough to be firm and continually say no again and again until I was able to push Joel and his horniness away. And Joel did not respect me enough to accept my no and understand how his persuasion affected the sense of my importance. And because of that I found myself in the position of making the decision to carry a pregnancy to term or to terminate it. Because of it I am plagued with the thoughts of “what if?” What gender would my baby have been? What kind of personality would it have had? Would it have been introverted and nerdy like me? Or extroverted and goofy like him? Would it have made me feel as if life was worth living? Would I have felt some kind of love towards it that I have never felt before? Would I have been able to look at it and see myself? I have to live with this decision for the rest of my life. Five years from now I will be thinking about how my child would have been starting school and would be wondering what kind of friends my child would make and what subjects my child would have enjoyed.  In fifteen years from now I will be thinking about how I could be teaching my child how to drive a car and guiding them through romance and heart break and how to be strong when the world tries to tear them down. The what ifs will always be there because there was a whole life that I had to give up and now it will just be in my imagination. And even though I do not regret my decision at all, it hurts me to know that this will forever be on my mind. 

But as much as the what ifs plague me, I do know what would have happened had I had this child. I would not have gone to treatment. My mental health would not have been a priority and I would not have been able to give the child a stable mother who was completely devoted to it and able to provide what it needed without destroying myself in the process. I know that by not having this child I am able to attempt to try and live a life of health and happiness that I have not had for the last 6 years. And even though my relationship with Joel was filled with a lot of toxicity that both of us brought to the relationship, I have learned from both his and my own mistakes how to be a better person to a future partner and most importantly how to be a better person to myself. And so that in the future I will hopefully be able to be with someone that respects me and can allow me to respect myself. And that with this person I can create a child that I am ready for and can be a better mother to. 

[bethanigoodrum]

Yesterday I was able to spend time and catch up with an old friend and one of the questions he asked me was what I have been doing in my free time. And I gave him the honest answer. I hang out with people about once or twice a week and for the rest of the evenings I read, watch Netflix, puzzle, or go to coffee shops. And his response to that was to tell me how sorry he is for me. And his response has me asking the question- is my life something that people need to apologize to me for? Is this a sad life? 

He isn't the only person that has made comments about it recently. My therapist made a comment about how she feels I should improve my social life and my mom told me that living alone with no boyfriend sounds incredibly lonely. She told me to start dating again so that I wouldn't be alone at home every night. Before these comments were made I didn't really think about the prospect of my loneliness too much. I would get off work and look forward to reading my book or seeing what was going to happen in my latest show. I would occupy my thoughts about what I was going to make for dinner and other recovery focused thoughts. But now I can’t stop thinking about this sad life of mine. I understand that only having one good friend and a few acquaintances/friends in town is not ideal and does create lonely nights sometimes, i get that. And I feel it. I would welcome a more vivid social life, I just do not know how to go about that. 

I know that I am sad, but I don’t want people to look at my life and to automatically think that being in my own company is something that is sad. I feel like learning how to be okay in my own company is part of this recovery and is something to accept rather than pity. If you were to look at my life last year, on the outside I feel like no one would have pitied me. I had a boyfriend who adored me and a job that had a great resume title and kept me busy. I had a multitude of college friends and coworkers to allow my social calendar to fill up. But even with that outside appearance, I truly had a sad life. I was in a hopeless relationship because I didn’t respect myself enough to be single, I was hiding who I was to him, I was devoting my social life to a friendship that had an hour glass destined to run out after only 5 months, and my typical days consisted of a sharp object going across my skin and plans of the best way to end my life jumbling through my mind. My conversations with people mainly consisted of my deescalation and my presence in other’s lives was one of stress and anxiety. There was no joy in that life. At least now I am able to go to bed by myself and not have to either have a panic attack next to my boyfriend or be filled with self-hate for not being next to him. I have conversations that are honest and hopeful rather than leading to my destruction. My social life is smaller but the time I do spend with people has been richer and more fulfilling. I feel more like an equal with the people in my life rather than the fragile pathetic worthless girl that I felt I was a year ago. And even though all I’ve done for the last 2 hours is listen to songs from musicals, I have thoroughly enjoyed this time and I haven't felt as if I am missing out on a more fascinating life outside of my living room. 

But sure, even though my life is better right now than it was a year ago, that doesn't mean that I am not struggling. I feel breakable still and I am worried that I am on the verge of another depressive episode. Each day I have to choose to be okay and to not self harm or restrict or play around with what it would be like to go on a drive that never allows me to come back home. The urges are almost always there, the loneliness of a lack of social life is still present, but so far I have been able to choose recovery and myself. I was alone all day today, but that wasn't anything to be sad about. I was able to cook for myself, relax with myself, and enjoy myself. I think that if I can continue to survive and potentially thrive in my own company, then everything else about this recovery will be manageable. Because if I can grow on my own then I know that I can grow completley. And when my life becomes more socially open, then that is just an added benefit. 

Don’t tell me that you are sorry about my life. Tell me that no matter if I am by myself, life is still beautiful. Tell me that you’re glad I am living my best life that I can at the moment. I don't want your pity. I just want to be healthy and happy. And the only way to get that is through myself.