House keeping

I had a prof who’d start classes by going through “house keeping”. All it was was details we may have missed, forgotten, or she wanted to highlight. I’ve got some house keeping to do before I write about something coherent.

  • We have finally moved everything into the house and are beginning home renos soon.
  • I have begun painting the bathrooms and will begin on bedrooms in a matter of days.
  • I bought a pottery wheel and have not used it yet because of the lack of electricity in the basement.
  • My neighbours have a baby and they let me hold him whenever they see me.

I haven’t written in a month and this evening I was inspired to write after reading one of Kendall’s posts (she is the only person I persistently read.) She talked about the loss of pet and the experience of crying for hours and finding comfort in a journal. I’ve always been bad at keeping journals. I write in them only when I’m at my worst so I don’t find much comfort in them. Even here I tend to be gone for weeks at a time and only come back when i feel something is breaking down in me. I’m not much a rest-er or relaxer. I’m a real go-getter but today I’m reminded of how profound an effect grief can have.

It’s been two months since I ended one of the most meaningful relationships I’ve had in Edmonton. I can’t think of clear way of saying it or a title I feel comfortable ascribing this person. I loved (love still?) this person, but I let go and it haunts me. It breaks my heart and everyday. Did I make the right choice? I’m really bothered by my inability to just pick up the pep and keep going. I’ve never experienced a grief like this which is the largest contributor to my doubt.

I need more time to heal from the damage in the relationship, but truthfully I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t think they want to be in my life because I ended the relationship. Or because I haven’t been my best with them. I wish I had been more forward and honest. I want them to understand and still love me and to do anything to just let me know “I still care too.” But I don’t think they will.

My journal provides little comfort as it lists the reasons why I ended the relationship, but also when and why I would resume it. A pattern of unhappiness emerges that I don’t think was escapable.

On a much brighter note I have gained and kept on 7 pounds! I’m a happy 124 pounds. It feels good but I have had a hard time with it as I grew up surrounded by women who constantly dieted and discussed their desire to lose weight. I feel good though! I dance in the house and sing loudly. I’m sleeping through the night and eating happily. I’m not controlled by my anxiety for the moment, but I do really want to find a means of dissociating sensations of hunger and physical pain, along with low blood sugar and the friend I lost (one of the pivotal moments in our friendship involved going for alcohol, me not having supper, walking to get sugary items, and going home feeling really shitty).

I’d like to regain more control but I also wonder if that’s part of the issue. I grew up hearing things like “let go, let God.” and as much as I’ve tried to practice that I don’t feel I have the patience.

Thanks for listening to my woe as I wait to bounce back!

Ange Kid.

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Settle in

Just when I thought the house was unpacked my in-laws brought a heap of my husband’s things from their basement. The worst part of this was that much of what they brought had been boxes of items to donate. Now it’s here waiting to be taken away again. I feel bad because his parents had to rent a trailer. I feel annoyed that it’s here.

I’ve been lazing about and having productive days in between. Emotionally things are still unbalanced. When I’m feeling good Boy Wonder is down, and it doesn’t seem to have an end in sight. Moving on is hard. I feel our move to a new home is poetic. Moving out, up, away, on… there are some manys different movements simultaneously coordinating to create a safe and loving space. I’ve become pretty melancholic. A small voice in my mind asks if this is permanent. It wonders if maybe the melancholy is in exchange for my body feeling relief.

I continue to be overwhelmed.

By everything.

There is no space here.

Only boxes everywhere. I’m afraid of making a mistake, being wrong, finding out I could have done something different to avoid “this”. My weakness as a Green Lantern is showing. Fear. Being afraid instead of being bold because I blame myself for the pain around me. I’m scared I can’t be better. Scared that my choices have all been wrong. I’m bothered that I haven’t been consistent.

I wonder what a younger me would have thought.

I wonder what an older me will think.

How does one take comfort in living? (I’m not suggesting death in opposition, but questioning the place of discomfort in the everyday.)

When I talk with my friends they ask if I’m still making art. I graduated in April. I have moved since then. I come up with excuses and reasons instead of boldly saying “No. I need(ed) time. I broke my heart, threw my entire emotional balance out of order, broke my husband’s heart, moved to a new home, and haven’t unpacked any of it yet.” I’ve started self isolating again – even from my blog. I just want to give myself a big hug and say “Hey kiddo. Just be Ange. Be all those things you aspire to be.” and maybe add “Don’t be scared.”

People have invited me/suggested I go to a performance workshop, but I’m not in a space to do that. I’ve always done performance selfishly. It’s about my need to communicate. I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be rebuked or whatever. I want to be wrapped up in an unparalleled softness.

-Talk to you again sooner than later, Ange Kid.

Much needed follow up!

Yesterday was a dark day. I thought I should follow up promptly. I slept for 14 hours straight. No waking up to panic or think about being hungry. I just slept. Before bed I was panicking to the point of freaking out my darling husband. So we went online.

I did some autogenic training (AT) which is form of deep relaxation to help rebalance the body’s fight or flight. I have an exaggerated and overactive fight or flight response. I experience stronger feelings for  longer time. The technique I used was to repeat phrases to myself. “My left arm is heavy, my right arm is heavy. Both of my arms are heavy.” Do the same for legs, then replace heavy for warm, talk about your heart and your breathing as calm and regular. It works for me. As I was doing it I remembered doing it as a wee little lass in counselling. I can’t believe I forgot about it!

Boy Wonder then did some guided meditation with me because no matter what I did I couldn’t escape the stomach pains. This one involved visualizing walking down stairs and finding peace at the bottom. When you got nervous you let yourself feel it and focused on breathing. The combined efforts of these types of exercises is to relearn that the sensation of fear doesn’t equal immediate or physical harm.

I’ll be practicing them in the coming days to keep myself managed, but there is a lot of emotional damage my husband and I have to work through. I was able to find a new counsellor in the city where I live. I’m hoping things go better this time around.

Thank you everyone for being here for me. It’s a long road ahead. If you are in need of encouragement listen to Steve Aoki and Louis Tomlinson’s “Just Hold On”. I woke up to a text from my husband suggesting I listen to this. I felt understood.

Love always, Ange

Managing my anxiety and panic

Last night was probably the worst night I’ve had in the last year. I had to sleep on the floor again. I sleep on the floor in an effort to feel grounded, and because I don’t want to wake my husband while my body trembles uncontrollably. I don’t know why it happens, but when I get anxious, sad, or hungry enough I shake uncontrollably. If I try to stop shaking I have to rock gently instead. To defeat the uncontrollable I have to do a repetitive motion. Nervous tick maybe? I also run my thumbs over my finger nails. Not counting but just flicking them.

Sorry if this is scattered, I’m just writing it out as I think it so that the thoughts disappear. Last night I shook. I tried to drug myself but every 2 hours I was awake feeling sick, hungry, and full! So much tummy trouble. I tried something new last night. Every time I woke up I drank some water and took my blanket somewhere else. I tried sleeping somewhere different every time I woke up. At 5 my husband woke up for work, he had quizzes to mark and I went back to bed. At 6 he came to cuddle me and I managed to sleep uninterrupted until 10:30. It felt so good to sleep.

Why so much stress? Because I’m not the best partner. Over the last year I’ve damaged my relationship with my husband in ways I never thought I could. We’ve started working on it recently and it brings out the stress in me. An overwhelming feeling of failure because I love my husband. He is the most amazing man you’ll ever meet and the guilt and remorse is consuming me. I called a counselling office today and have an appointment for early next week. I’m going to start solo and then go back into couples’ counselling.

Things ended poorly with our last counsellor advising my husband to leave me. I constantly feel that everyone wants him to leave me. I get insecure and panic when he has to leave for work. All that made it hard for me to open up to him because what if he leaves? I’ve given him lots of reasons to. I’m sad.

The best I can do to manage my anxiety and panic lately is to lay on the ground. Just to lay there and remember I’m alive and real.

I’m hoping that counselling will help because I can’t live like this much longer. I’d institutionalize myself. I think I’m going to end this post here because I’m freaking out. There is more I want to tell my husband when I see him but I’m afraid that the more he knows the more likely he is to leave. I sabotaged our relationship repeatedly out of fear and insecurity. Somehow I can’t just open up and be vulnerable with him… sigh…

-Love, Ange.

Moving update

We bought a duplex in the end. It has a lot of space and everything we need. The kitchen is gorgeous and perfect for us! My darling hysband loves to cook and I adore baking. We have all the counter space we could need.

Moving was uneventful, it rained and we got most of it done in the first day. Since that day we’ve been moving slowly. A lot of random bits and pieces and art supplies. Packing, stacking, and, endlessly trying to make this place feel like home.

I’m still getting sick and my doctor up and quit at the clinic where she was. So I have to find a new one, but I was with her because of her work with autism and I was waiting on a referral for ADHD testing. I feel bothered to be left like this and have to start over. I think it’ll work out, but the anxiety is bad. I’m eating all day without ever feeling full and staying in a state of tension. I feel like my body is responding to the emotional tension in my heart. That friend I was hurt by a few weeks ago is no longer in my life. I couldn’t have him affecting me anymore. But the grief over the loss is more than I thought it would be and as much as I needed the release and boundaries of “no more” instead of “not now”. It hurts my heart. Until that is gone I think my body will suffer.

Love, Ange

Learning to be gentle

A friend of mine manages her anxiety with  pet analogies. When I was having a hard time eating and resting yesterday I texted her and she told me “If you forget to let a dog out to do his business in the garden, he barks. If you forget to put food in your stomach, it growls. If you hear the dog barking you, you can feeling guilt about forgetting, but you will still let him out because otherwise he will poo in your shoes.” She followed this up with: “Anxiety is your barking dog; he barks at everything right now because everything is new and both exciting and threatening. There is room for anxiety in your blanket but only if he is willing to settle down and be quiet”

I was curled up in a blanket on the stairs trying to eat and breath without suffering. I’m really proud of myself today. I don’t feel comfortable posting on my Facebook about it because those “friends” of mine are the people I down play my anxiety to. I’m proud because I told my husband what was going on, where the anxiety is coming from, that I’ve been having nightmares all week which is causing me to have a panic attack within the first few minutes of waking up. I’m proud because today instead of 5 hours it took 3 to get back to a good place. I made a smoothie, I’ve been eating  crackers all morning. I started to readjust to the feeling of hunger instead of fear.

This is incredible news.

I’m learning to be gentle. To take the time to relax, swaddle, feed, and love myself. I stopped feeling shame over crying and accepted that it makes me feel better. So much better just to let myself burst into tears and feel all the sad stuff. I get scared that once I start I wont be able to stop (it used to happen that I’d be hysterical for hours if I let myself cry. Shame does intense things.).

On the darker side of things, I’m getting pretty sick from the food I’m eating. Being half moved means I don’t have a proper kitchen set up and eating out makes me sick. I think I’m going to shed the few pounds I managed to gain back if this keeps up.

Soon I’ll be writing to you about the curtains I’m sewing for my new house. I’m very excited.

-Love, Ange.

New place same fears

I’m laying on the stairs. I just woke up.

I woke up at 5 this morning and didn’t eat soon enough so I got hungry and crashed. I’ve spent the morning trying to recover. Eating and sipping water until I feel better. I’ve started to confuse hunger with other feelings. I can’t feel hungry without thinking I’m panicking. Its hard to talk myself down. Do I talk about the fear or try to move on? What is the right answer?

We have started moving into our new home. I’m enjoying the unpacking process! Every time we bring over new boxes I get a little more cozy being here. I’m going to paint one of the bathrooms red, and we are going to make our own curtains. The windows in this place are oversized and to buy curtains that for is outside our budget. The basement is unfinished and seems like a fun summer project after we have settled in more. I might go and mud some of the dry wall after I post this. Get my body moving and hopefully change my mood.

Sorry for being away for so long. I got all moddy again and felt no one wanted to hear that so I isolated which really makes no sense. This is my blog. I’m not forcing anyone to read it the shame of being in a rough patch is artificial.

Thanks for being here for me. Sometimes getting better takes a long time. Oh! But I haven’t lost any of the weight I gained so at least I can have comfort in knowing that.

Invisible Illness

On of the most amazing women I’ve met is Cindy Baker. She is a phenomenal artist who taught me in my last year. She introduced me to the idea of taboo bodies, invisible illness, and revamped my personal search for a diagnosis (right now it’s up in the air as for ADHD or ASD, but really I just want better help). What I understood from her about invisible illness, is that it encompasses illness/difficulty  that are visually unsubstantiated. I don’t want to speak for other people or interject into theories I don’t study. BUT! I can relate. And I want to share my experience.

I casually brush off my mental illness because I feel like everyone struggles. I deny myself the kindness I show others in validating their experiences and emotions. I have a severe generalized anxiety disorder comorbid with chronic depression. That makes my life is exponentially hard.

Yet, I’m told I look amazing, graceful, put together, flawless.

I guess.

I’ve disclosed my difficulties here in virtual reality where none of you have to see me everyday and your support is kind words. The everyday effect of people not knowing, or not taking me seriously because of the perfect artifice is best explained in an anecdote. As I’ve just graduated a lot of my friends suggest hanging out, but won’t meet me somewhere I already know. They give me an address and suggest we meet at these random locations. If I say yes, I usually cancel that day because I can’t stop crying because I am scared. If I say no, we don’t see each other. Ever. Seriously. I spend hours stressing over going places and how to feel safe and comfortable. I waste so much energy on it. The social impact sucks! I don’t go places I want to be, I don’t see the people I love, I isolate myself because in spite of all the ways I’m vulnerable I never tell people about my mental illnesses.

Another anecdotal telling is the end result of my psychosomatic symptoms. I hate getting “compliments” on how thin I am. I don’t choose it. I don’t want it. I actively try to put on weight. I’m 5’4″ and lucky if I can get myself to settle at 117lbs. I don’t eat out at restaurants because of my dietary sensitivities I tell people. Although this is true, it’s mostly nerves that cause my digestive and intestinal distress. I like to go for tea. A warm water based product, what could go wrong?!

The people I love aren’t aware of how hard this is for me. I get complimented on my courage and bravery, but this a fabrication. I act that way so I don’t feel scared. I’ve been doing this for years. I was diagnosed at 12 because of how severe the symptoms were. It’s obvious to health care professionals that I am experiencing fluctuation and emotional extremity beyond average experience. But if you talk to me you usually get the impression I’m just quirky. Not that I compulsively plan, that I regularly have intrusive thoughts, that if I don’t like a feeling or conversation I deflect or have to leave the room. I pretend things are going well. I figured if I did this long enough it would become real, but I met someone who pulled the loose threads of my fabrication and I don’t think things will ever be pretendable again.

I’ve eaten three meals in the last 5 hours because I can’t tell if I’m hungry or nervous. I’ve opted for meal replacement drinks for today.

Love always! Ange.

 

Recovery happens in stages

Preface: I tried to be focused, but that quickly fell apart, and for today I’m not correcting myself. Recover in stages. Show self love. Learn to live with contradictions.

It’s been about a week since I last posted. I was super sick with anxiety and my husband took me home for the weekend. Going home was good. I recuperated. I saw my kids (if this is your first time hearing about them they are my siblings who are 10 and 12 years younger than me and I am one of their primary caregivers. I’ll stop before I go on an epic rant about what makes “parents”). As I was saying, I saw my kids, my mum, my gpa, and all my cousins! AAAAAAHHH they are great. We went out to a provincial park and had an epic water balloon fight. There are 11 grandkids in my family and I am the second oldest, our youngest is 7 and rocks. These kids literally give me life. I did spend the first day home crying in bed about what a failure of a parent I was due to my inability to get out of of bed or spend time with the kids.

It’s hard on me. I love and care to a degree that causes physical suffering. Today, I’m doing better and I want to write about that so I can remember in the future and let myself (and you!) know what ended up working. The yoga rituals were great. I found them helpful in controlling my body. I’ve also started drinking meal replacements at every meal to help put on the lost weight and for the first night in a month I slept through the night. It seems to be working.

My husband and I decided not to buy the condo and instead are buying a duplex (this is a hfl house for those who aren’t familiar. The house is divided vertically into tall narrow homes) and this is FABULOUS! It has an unfinished basement so I’m going to get to show off my reno skills and build a ceramics studio in the basement. We get possession on the 6th which makes me grateful that I began packing when my semester ended.

On the downside I cyberstalked an ex in a moment of weakness. Which is bringing out my unmanageable anxious symptoms.

I saw a few really dear friends while I saw home who helped to piece me back together. I don’t know how much of it to describe or write about because it’s an epic mess that involves so many other people but it’s about the ex I cyberstalked. Looking back it had a lot of elements of abusive behaviours in it. I think that’s why it’s so hard to let them go. I loved them deeply but they hurt me intentionally. And it freaks me out that I was and sometimes am okay with that?!

This is why I wanted to title the post recovery happens in stages. I don’t want to feel ashamed when I fail, or relapse. I come from a family of addicts. I know the experience. I also know how hard it is to love someone who is actively hurting themselves or making what appear to be the wrong choices. After reading  this paragraph I wrote the preface. Like, maybe today I just need the chaos. And none of you judge me. Oh! the relief. I used to post on my facebook about my blog posts but eventually I didn’t want my close family and friends reading this type of thing so I stopped. I compartmentalize my feelings as a defense mechanism to feel safe.

Okay. I love you all. I might post tomorrow. I have yet another dental appointment so I might be a grouchy baby.

-Ange Kid.

Abstraction and Shape

Hello again! I feel miserable again. It’s just a thing going on right now. I know this is an illusion. Things will change; I’ll be fine. So, I’m going to do at least one thing today. I said a few days ago I’d write about abstraction. I’ve written about it before in terms of fine arts but I also want to apply it to reality and my lack of belief in a reality.

Abstraction and representation are the usual ends of a sliding scale for art. Is it an accurate representation/does look like the real/tangible/object? Weeeeeeeell, that’s not a helpful question. Try asking “what does it represent?” Maybe the best way to express a feeling is a broad stroke of colour, or a sculpture so heavy it cannot be moved, or a performance where you blow up a queen sized air mattress to understand the stress of single handedly trying to make a two person relationship work. (That’s something I did once guys. 520 breaths. It turns out that in blowing up the air mattress I loss most of my body heat and proceeded to tremble and shake thinking “this is the end. I’ve accidentally gotten hypothermia.”) In this system, all of representation is inherently abstraction because it is not the thing.

Now for incoherent tangential thoughts on the application of abstraction and representation to my life as anxiety begins to overwhelm me. If I can remember that nothing is real or has a way is “should” be then I can operate better. This does run the risk of dissociating, which sometimes happens to me. I develop the inability to feel grounded. Reality starts to dissolve, I hallucinate, I have to be around others or I spiral into tremendous panic. When it works best is when I stop thinking of how to fit in or make things work an begin asking “What do I/my behaviours represent”?

I am not my anxiety.

When I’m having a breakdown moment and I know I can’t trust myself to accurately gauge my surroundings I am an abstraction. I am representing something real without becoming it. Example! Lately, I cry because I’m afraid to be hungry. I cry because I’ll have to eat. I am giving shape to my anxiety. I cry and that too gives shape to my anxiety. However, one is more helpful and manageable than the other. I’m going to be anxious. I know this. I’m going to be okay if I can give that abstract overwhelming fear an essence or purpose. This is another example that shows me how hard it is. Especially as someone who looks “healthy”. Today I got out of bed because I was scared of going back to sleep. I wake up feeling like I’m starving. I’m at the point where I can’t tell if I’m hungry or nervous. The feedback loop of my psychosomatic stomach pains has developed in a way that I experience stress  and pain whether or not I’ve eaten. I cannot escape my internal suffering but I can give it shape. I can control what those feelings make me do.

I reach my hands above my head and I hold myself as straight and stretched out as possible. I tell myself “I will be at peace with all things, at all times…” and I reach down to hold my toes and finish “…and in all places.”

I find it useful to give my feelings shape through spoken or written words, through tears, ritual actions, and stillness. There are days when the only thing I can do is sleep away the feelings.

Whoa, so much better. Talk to you again soon. sorry if this is all moody and dark but right now I need this. I need my feelings to go somewhere.