Levels of me

There are about, oh, 900 things I could write about right now. But I'm putting it all on hold right now for the sake of the topic that keeps coming back. It's the one that's missing from my book: faking it.

I was talking to my therapist today, and amidst discussions of repairing fractured friendships, being confident in alone time, and writing for me, I brought up the subject without really knowing where I was going (usually, I don't start to talk without a firm idea of where I'm going... that's not to say I don't very frequently lose that train along the way, but... at least I start out solidly).

First, the disclaimer: This is not unique to autism. Not by any means. However, I think that there is a specific kind of "faking it" that many (at least female) autistics learn to do to function.

Not real or "faking it": Engaged, verbally fluent, calm, understanding, self aware, mature, making "eye" contact.

Real: Spacey, losing my train of thought and stumbling over my words, anxious, self absorbed, childlike, emotionally unstable.

Before you think that it's best to always be real, consider the fact that the "real" me inevitably drives everyone away. At least, to date, it has. Secondly, consider that I would never make any progress in therapy if I continued in this state all the time, because I wouldn't be able to take in the skills or apply them. In order to have friends and in order to find a livable life and heck, in order to be able to blog, I absolutely must learn to use my "faking it" skills sometimes. Maybe "faking it" isn't the best way to put it.. maybe it's simply a different level of myself to which I must become more attuned in order to progress.

But it doesn't feel comfortable nor natural. I think, even when in therapy and thus functioning in a fully "fake" state, it's important to let bits of reality come through. My therapist told me today not to try to fake it when I get stuck on my words; simply say, "I'm stuck" and stop. I'm pretty good, though not perfect, at continuing to talk to through the stuckness until I can pick up again. She asked me not to do that... I hope she realizes how often I get stuck!

Sometimes, I envy the little ones who haven't yet learned to fake it. They just get to be 100% them, all the time. It's absolutely exhausting work trying to be older than you are, more together than you are, calmer than you are. That's the part that I think most everyone can understand, though, right?

Radical Acceptance

AS. GAD. EDNOS. Panic disorder. Impulse constrol disorder-NOS. What am I missing? You get the idea.

But there's a new kid on the block. He's the one nobody likes. He's mean, he's manipulative, he's cruel, he kicks puppies.

To be honest, I've known in my heart for years that I had this diagnosis. As soon as I read about it, I was like... wow, that's me. Kind of like what happened with Asperger's. Now, there are a lot of symptoms of the disorder that I do not have, but there are also a lot that I do have. And I'm scared. 10% suicide rate? Little hope of recovery? Clinicians refuse to treat it? Oh, great.

Three conversations really helped me think this through, though. One was my mom. She said that while I may have this diagnosis, I'm far from beyond hope. I have a lot going for me, and especially because I'm aware that I have these traits (whereas most people with this disorder are not and refuse to believe it), I can work to counter them. The second conversation was with a girl from group, who said that she too has this diagnosis, and that if she could pick any diagnosis to have, it'd be this one. Why? Because it's behavioral and not chemical. You have little hope of changing the chemicals in your brain, but your behaviors are yours for the changing. Then, my dad said he's glad I got the diagnosis because it means I can learn about it and begin to do something about it, as opposed to letting it control me.

I'm honestly afraid to write this post and have you all suddenly walk out the door in sudden fear of me. I'm the same person I was before I had this label; in fact, I've had the disorder the whole time. And really, only the people who know me best are apt to notice the traits of it. Good and bad, that is...

If you ask me, this disorder is a killer combo with autism. It leads to social problems of its own, and then the autism means that I don't pick up on the social cues that people are turned off by me. It causes big, big messes, and I'm in one right now. It's so, so hard to apologize for things you didn't feel you did wrong, but then, I'm sure I did and just didn't know it, and I desperately want my friend back.

Compartments

This is one of those "there's so much going on I don't know how to start, where to go, or when to stop" posts. And did I mention that I have a self-imposed 13 minutes time limit to write? Because then I need to do some things. You know, important things. Like get a shower (because I never did that today) and change my pump site and go to Mom's to go out to dinner. Things that need to be done.

I narrowly escaped a return to the hospital today. I'm not doing well. Though I'm sure most of you can read the details into this, I flat out refuse to expose the person by being specific. Things are currently very rocky with a very good friend. Maybe irreparably so. There was anger over things that I strongly believe that, while I can and will continue to try to improve them, they are part of my autism and not entirely within my control.

Add this to the fact that I caught my reflection in a mirror the other day without realizing it was me, and I truly saw one of the biggest people I've ever seen in real life, and... well... things got bad. I'm emotionally dysregulated, to use a DBT term, and I'm handling it poorly. I'm not sure that I could have stopped the spiral sooner, but the fact now is that I didn't, and here I am. The doctor at partial wanted me to return to the hospital, but we set up some outside supports (time with Mom, more time with Mom, calls from the crisis resolution network each day) and I think I can manage at home.

My therapist at partial did some really cool things in the midst of this, though. I admit my total misread of her "outside the box"- ness. She wants to read my book (being that I can't even afford my own copy right now, I sent her the manuscript) totally of her own accord and wants to do some emailing to let me process some things. Regarding the book, she wants to get an idea of where the AS diagnosis comes from from a behavioral standpoint, because she just doesn't quite see it, I guess. I think that may be for several reasons, including my rather superior ability to fake it when needed, my ability to hide what I'm really like, a result of my intelligence leading to improved superficial social skills (I kind of empirically collect data to determine some semblance of what is "normal," then simply copy, when I can). All this to say, at first glance, I have the ability to come across as an intelligence, neurotypical, albeit in some aspects immature, young woman.

And (this is the part I like) she says that diagnoses are for insurance and little more. She treats people with symptoms, not diagnoses. So the fact that I have many autistic traits is not so important as what those traits are. And, frankly, the autism isn't really my main issue right now... though, I would argue, it colors everything else. By the same token, my innate mental instability, colors the autistic symptoms, too. It's all wrapped up in each other.

Okay, not really done, but time is up. By the way, Elsie is sure trying to help my type today, so if you got any kitty-speak in the middle of my post that I missed, I apologize.

Bad number day

I mean, maybe it's the autism in me, but boy do I love numbers. Love-hate is more accurate, I guess. I get so wrapped up in the amounts, measurements, quantities, that I lose sight of what's really going on.

The most obvious one right now is my weight. If it's up, I don't eat at least one meal that day. I know that weighing myself daily is just asking for trouble, but the prospect of eating when my weight has gone up and not knowing is just too much to bear. Don't for a second think that this applies to doctors and the like... no, I won't let them weigh me no matter what. The fact that the number on their scale may be different than the number on mine (which is the same as the hospital scale and is accurate)... no way. Can't handle that. One number per day, no more, no less.

I also get wrapped up in blood sugars, calories, minutes working out... you get the idea.

But a new number caught my eye today. "Doing well" is when I post every other day on here... 15/month. Doing "ok" is when I post every third day... 10. January? I posted 3 times. That qualifies as horrible. Now, remember that I said that I wouldn't be posting as much. Remember that I was in the hospital. I was taking a break, right? But that number is just too much. I don't like it one little bit.

And my weight is up today. And it's Tuesday, which is an orange day and sometimes even a 3 (days have colors and sometimes numbers). And it snowed so I have to go clean off my car, and me being me, I refuse to wear a coat, so it will be cold. Grump grump grump.

I think I need the kitty.

(Un)professionals

I'm aghast at the unprofessionalism and unawareness I'm facing when dealing with my health professionals.

I've been seeing my PCP since I was 15. He knows that the only time my weight is within the by-the-books "healthy" range is when I'm half starved to death. He's seen it. So when I went to see him on Tuesday as a followup from my hospitalization, I expected him to understand why losing weight is not my top priority right now. He must have told me six times and six different reasons why I need to lose now. My broken foot will hurt less. My reflux will improve. I forget what else. First of all, all of that is utter crap. My reflux is the same that every person who has been through an ED faces when refeeding... it's my body relearning to digest food. My broken foot, without its boot on, doesn't even hurt! He's just trying to get me to want to lose weight now, which I obviously already want and don't need his help with, but my better judgment tells me to put it off while my body and mind recover. With the exception of the effects of starvation, I have literally no ill health effects due to my weight. Blood pressure, pulse, temp, cholesterol, it's all pristine.

That said, I'm switching doctors to one that my therapist/RD recommends, one that has experience with EDs, diabetes, psychiatry, all of that. We'll see how she goes. I hate to end blog posts this way, but I've had a long day and the words are simply done. No more. Maybe I'll be less anxious after my boys win the Superbowl :)

10 things NOT to say

10 things NOT to say to a person recovering from an eating disorder (and they've all been said to me since I've been home by people who should know better because I've talked to them about this):

1. It's impossible to eat that much and still lose weight (I hear: You're a pig).

2. You wouldn't look so big if you wore normal clothes (I hear: You're massive).

3. From the doctor in the ER: Frankly, I see nothing wrong with you (I hear: Go home, keep doing what you're doing).

4. Well, you look better. (I hear: You don't look sick anymore. You look healthy. You look fat).

5. Wow, that target weight sounds really high (I hear: FAT... = you'll never be pretty).

6. Are you really going to eat all of that? (I hear: You're such a pig!)

7. I'm so fat/I look horrible/I need to lose weight- referring to yourself (I think: If YOU need to lose weight, I must be disgusting).

8. Well, I'm on a diet and I'm eating x calories per day (I hear: ...and you're a pig because you eat twice that much!).

9. Aren't people with EDs thin? (I hear: You're faking it.)

10. Can't you lose weight healthily? (First of all, no, I can't; that's why it's a disorder. Secondly, all I hear is "LOSE WEIGHT NOW.")

And a freebie: 11. I would never eat... insert food/drink here. I've been told that V8 fusion, all carbs, nuts, organic chicken, organic eggs, and I forget what else are all horrible for me. And that's just this week. My food choices are not up to my mom, my friends, my sister, or even my therapist: they're between my doctor, my nutritionist and I.

Busted

Once upon a time, last Wednesday night at 6:08 AM, I was sleeping. I unfortunately dreamt that I was in the shower (if you know me, you know I HATE showers for sensory reasons. so this is starting off badly) and, worse than that, I knew that there was a large man on the opposite side of the shower curtain, about to attack me.

So what did I do?

Well, of course, I kicked as hard as I could. You know where. Only, I was actually in my bed, not the shower, so instead of hitting the shower curtain and subsequently the man, I hit my wall/window beside my bed. It. Hurt.

I walked on the foot that day, went to the gym on it... I mean, it hurt, but I never thought it was anything more than a bruise. I took my shoe off and... KABLAM! That thing swelled up and turned purple before my eyes!

When the pain, bruising, and swelling hadn't subsided by Friday, I called an orthopaedic doctor for an appointment and he got me in on Monday.

Basically, the xrays are clear, but he's certain that my first metatarsal is fractured. He put me in a hard-soled surgical shoe for 4 weeks and will re-x-ray in a week to look for signs of a healing fracture.

And the worst part: No gym for a month :(

Which is probably a good thing, because I've been losing weight rapidly (think a pound a day or more) this week on 2350 calories. Now, weight loss is okay, but that's too fast. So my calories are up to 2700. I feel like a PIG. Who loses weight on that much food? Apparently the girl with the magic metabolism. I know most of you are probably jealous that I "need" to eat so much, but honestly, this is also the girl who hates to eat, so it's kind of a nightmare.

I just keep telling myself that it will pass.