Eras

Throw Back Thursday

Mom Era: 0 - 8 years old

This was a stressful era. Mom was sick. I was sick.

But the leader of the era was always around. She explained things to me. Things most people wouldn't think to explain to a child. Things most people would think was beyond a child. Things most people would think damaging for a child.

I couldnt tell her my secrets. I didn't want to upset her with my worries. Somehow, she seemed to know them anyway.

Mom held my hand as I had my MRI.

Aunt Era: 8 - 13 years old

This was a quiet era. It built underground and erupted suddenly towards the end.

The leader wasn't always available. She was tired from working and caring for us. She was busy. She was overwhelmed.

I fought her over my secrets. I wanted her to worry over them. I wanted them to matter. I wanted to matter.

She loved me through the worst times.

Blue Era: 14 - 16 years old

This was a quick era. It took longer to adjust to than it actually lasted. It shocked me when it ended.

The leader was unsure. He had a lot of concerns. He was in charge of so many people's happiness. He didn't talk to me as much as he had during the other eras.

I denied him my secrets. I denied access into the pieces the eras had created. I didn't want him to know about the scars I'd gained while he wasn't the leader.

He asked for a blanket when I was cold during my MRI.

Lost Era: 16 - 20 years old

This was a random era. Nothing was set in stone. No goal seemed within reach, even just getting through.

The leader didn't exist. There was nothing to lead. Life just passed by. School, friends, entertainment on and on without a plan. And even when it did gain a plan, the approach was haphazard.

I ran away from my secrets. I forgot they existed. When their whispers grew to shouts, I ignored the pain. I ignored them and so they controlled me.

It was the darkest era.

Purple Era: 20 years old

This era is open. It doesn't have many things written yet. The things it has are mostly bad.

The leader is me. I'm finally at the helm. I don't know how to grow up. I doubt I ever will achieve the level I had hoped for. I have confidence that this era will last for quite some time.

I'm slowly remembering my secrets. I'm facing them head on. They are just facts or thoughts. I am the person whose life depends on continuing the fight.

I couldn't ask for a blanket. I couldn't squeeze comfort into my hands. I did, however, prepare for the shot. I prepared for the potential anxiety attack. I prepared for the loneliness and longing. I cheered on and supported my physically and mentally weak state. I got through my MRI on my own.

P.S. I'm going to attempt blogging all week. I had my last day of work today and decided to write on the topic that's been on my mind since Friday.

ARFID

Mental Health Awareness week was 12 days ago.

It's been a month of mental health for me. I started blogging again. I've been writing quotes and short recounts of pain. I went to a forum yesterday called "Breaking the Silence." It was nice to hear stories from others and to hear the enthusiasm for gaining understa5fnding on mental health.

I have come to accept two more disorders. I still have to talk to my doctors but I can pretty safely say I have Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder and Nightmare Disorder.

I avoid eating. I tell myself I can eat later. I restrict the foods I eat. I have about 50 safe foods so I'm better off than most people with the disorder. I have foods I have trouble looking at, even think about. My throat will start closing up and I get anxious.

But I make myself get food when I can. I force myself to eat just a little more. I'm trying to figure out what foods I can always eat. 100% safe foods. My physician told me not to go under 120. I don't know what's going to happen if I do. Right now that's 1 pound away. A 1 pound buffer, if you will. Can I keep from losing that safety net?

I was really worried about my weight from 6-9 y/o. I was in the 60s for about 2.5 years. I was terrified I'd never gain weight. That I would look gross. That I wouldn't grow correctly. That I wouldn't be average height or weight. I was used to being average.

I remember going shopping with my mom. I would choose foods that looked good to me. She'd ask about things I usually ate and I'd say no.

One memory from 2nd grade haunts me.

Mom: Purple Owl, get your backpack and come to the dining room.

Purple Owl looks at her backpack and sighs. School, again.

Purple Owl: Here I am. Do I have to go?

Mom: Yes. Here's your lunch.

Purple Owl takes the bag and opens it. Ew, a sandwich, fruit, and juice box.

Purple Owl: I don't want this.

Mom: Purple Owl, you need to eat.

Purple Owl: But I can't eat this.

Mom: Do you have your lunch ticket?

Purple Owl nods.

Mom: You can take the lunch and then you'll have two choices.

Purple Owl: But what if I don't want either?

Sisters: Mom, we're ready.

Mom, packing her bag: Okay girls. We'll be right there. Purple Owl, you have to eat something. We talked about this. You want to gain weight. You promised you'd eat lunch everyday.

Purple Owl's eyes light up.

Purple Owl: I want a Slim Fast.

Mom: They’re for weight loss or management. It's for adults. You don't need it.

Purple Owl: You've let me have some before. And if the serving size is for adults, it's different for children.

Mom: You promise to drink it?

Purple Owl bobs her head up and down.

Purple Owl: Yes. It's yummy.

Mom: And you're not taking it just to be like me?

Purple Owl shakes her head and entire body.

Purple Owl: No. It makes me hungry but it's also filling. I want to drink it.

Mom: Okay you can take it. Put the lunch bag in the fridge. Maybe you'll have it as a snack.

Purple Owl opens the pantry and chooses a chocolate Slim Fast. She makes room for it in her school bag. Purple Owl puts the lunch in the fridge. She wrinkles her nose. Not eating that today.

She skips to the living room and joins her family.

The lunch lady asked me three times if that's all I had for lunch. I think she thought my mom was neglectful, forcing me to diet, or unaware of dietary needs. She didn't know that my mom just wanted me to eat something, anything. She didn't know that I fought for the Slim Fast.

As for Nightmare Disorder, I thought everyone had nightmares, especially children. I blamed it on an overactive imagination and any intense movie or story. I didn't know that 1 to 3 bad dreams a night was a problem. I didn't know that remembering dreams for years was odd.

I have about 6 recurring dreams that started at some point in childhood or adolescence. A few years will go by between them. And each time they come back, it's like I'm welcoming an old friend. As I squeeze myself into a ball and wrap up in my blankets, I feel slightly comforted recalling the details. At least my dreams always have my back. They always want to visit.

Is that a normal way to relax from nightmares? Well it's my way. And it's not like I can go talk to someone about my bad dream in the middle of the night. Talk about my fear of going back to bed. Talk about my fear of what my brain is going to think up next.

I know about these disorders now. I'll work to get more information on them. I'll work to understand what they mean for me. And I can work with my doctors and others to find ways to face them head on. And that's a better place than I was in before.

School

I was thinking about elementary school today.

We used to play games that only required our body. We'd chase each other. We would be monsters and jumps out at each other. We played hand games and even made up some of our own.

It's funny what used to entertain me at a young age. I want to say that I matured. That it requires more complex things to engage me now. However, I think I'm worse off for it.

Children can create things to do. They use their imagination and figure out how to make it work. I wish I still had that ability.

I guess that's why I like working with children. I get to see them use their minds. It also teaches me how to have that mind again.

Throw Back Thursday

I've always been conflicted about school. I love learning and being around peers. But I was stressed about being assessed by teachers and tests. I was also stressed about my classmates and their problems.

I missed a lot of school because stress made me sick. I went to work and college classes with my adult family. Just to avoid school.

TBT:
I remember one time my oldest brother was going to take my sisters and I to school. I locked the door to my bedroom and put my hands behind me on the rungs of my bed. I figure if he couldn't get me, I wouldn't go to school. I don't remember what was that day's pain but he wasn't buying any aches. I don't know why I didn't want to go. And I felt bad for disobeying. But I couldn't see another way.

My brother took off the door knob. I begged him to let me stay home or go with him. But he said no to both. With our 17 year difference, it wasn't that hard for him to pick me up. I went to school. And just sat. I wasn't able to stay away from school but I could mentally remove myself.

Now that I'm older I realize how terrifying it would be to have an elementary student lock themselves in   room. Especially when they're clearly distraught.

I think I still do that sometimes. I get ill from stress. That's a fact. But sometimes I convince myself that I'm worse than I am. If I don't want to go somewhere, suddenly I'm broken. It's like I've mentally locked a door and wrapped my arms around a pillar. And then if I do get myself out, I'm not really there. When I'm shy, I talk too much. When I'm anxious, I don't talk at all.

But I know this now. I understand it more. And that's the first step to improvement.

P.S. I wrote 25,135 words for April Camp NaNoWriMo. It wasn't my first goal but my secondary goal was 25,000. So even if I could change it and win on the website, I'm considering myself a camp veteran now. I can't wait until the next camp

Painful Memory, Useful Memory

So I was telling my therapist about my panic attacks the other day. She asked me when I had my first panic attack. That took me a moment because most of my childhood memories are laced with unease.

The first panic attack I remember having was at age 7.

Characters
Purple Owl (age 7)
Mom
Aunt
Office lady
Teacher
Classmates

Mom: We have to go.

Purple Owl: I can't leave. I haven't finished my project.

Aunt: You have to go to school and we have to go.

Purple Owl looks at the table and down at the floor.

Purple Owl: But my project's due. And I can't present it if it's not finished.

Aunt: Do you think...

Purple Owl looks back at the adults.

Mom: We do have some time. Purple Owl, let's finish your project.

Purple Owl jumps into her seat. She picks up the materials to work on her project. Aunt pours a cup of coffee. And Mom reads while helping Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: I'm done.

Mom: Great. Let's go.

Purple Owl takes her sweater from Mom and freezes.

Aunt (from the open front door): Purple Owl, what's wrong?

Purple Owl: I'm late. I can't go to school. I'm late.

Mom: You have to go to school. Now that your projects done, don't you want to show your teacher and friends?

Purple Owl: No. I'm late. I don't want to go. Can't I just spend the day with you?

Mom: No, Purple Owl. You have to go to school today. Your project looks nice. You'll get a good grade.

Purple Owl looks down.

Aunt: We have to go, Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: Okay.

She follows the adults out of the apartment and to the car. She gets into the backseat and stares out the window.

School is going to be terrible.

Mom: Purple Owl, we're there. Are all your things collected?

Purple Owl: Yes, mommy.

The adults look at each other.

Purple Owl stares at her school.

Aunt: Purple Owl, you have to get out dear.

Purple Owl: But...

Mom: You've missed too many days. I can't take you with me. And you have your project.

Purple Owl sighs and closes her eyes.

(Beat)

Aunt: Purple Owl?

Purple Owl: I'm going. Just a moment.

Purple Owl eases the door open. She picks up her backpack and lunch bag. She climbs out and leans over to get her project.

Mom: Have a good day, Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: You too, Mommy. Bye, Aunt.

Purple Owl walks to the office. She waves to her mom in the passenger seat. She pulls open the office door and hears the car drive off.

Office Lady: Hi.

Purple Owl: Good morning. Purple Owl, room 15.

Office Lady looks through the files. She writes on the card and hands it to Purple Owl.

Office Lady: Make sure to give this to your teacher.

She opens the gate for Purple Owl.

Purple Owl: I will. Have a good day.

Purple Owl puts the attendance sheet on her project and opens the door. Down the ramp and across the yard.

She passes the restroom. Then stops.

Purple Owl: Hmmm, I could use the bathroom. I don't need to. But maybe I should.

She takes two steps back and enters the restroom.

She sits down and puts her project next to her. Purple Owl leans her head back and takes a breath.

She's late. If she goes in, everyone will stare at her. The teacher will ask what happened. She'll disrupt the class and ruin everything.

Purple Owl lets out her breath. Her eyes widen and her fingers shake.

Ow!!!!!

She stares at her chest, confused about the pain.

She looks back at her project and sees the attendance sheet. Purple Owl picks it up and follows her name. Purple Owl... 8:45.

It’s been a few minutes. The restroom is a good enough excuse.

She closes her eyes again and tries to breathe. It's painful and difficult. The air won't go through. But she tries to breathe.

She looks at her project again and smiles warily. She worked hard on it. She should turn it in with pride.

But she can't. She can’t go to class. Her heart races and she stares at the bathroom wall.

Purple Owl pushes herself off the wall. She walks to the sink. She turns it on and wets paper towels. She wipes down her face and stares in the mirror.

Purple Owl: I can do this. It's just the door, teacher, and then my seat. Everyone in the class is my friend. They aren't scary.

She raises her eyebrows. Purple Owl in the mirror questions everything she said.

Purple Owl: I have to go. It will only get worse the longer I stay.

Purple Owl in mirror looks defiant. After a few moments, Purple Owl sticks her tongue out at her reflection and shrugs. She's not the one in charge.

She puts her backpack back on. She picks up her project and walks to the door. Purple Owl looks at the bathroom and shakes her head.

Purple Owl: Someone will find me if I stay here. I have the attendance sheet. I have to go.

She starts the walk to class. It seems so long. Her legs feel heavy. She gets to the door and takes a deep breath.

Purple Owl: Here it goes.

She opens the door. And as expected, her classmates and teacher turn to look. She walks up the aisle to her teacher. She hands her the sheet.

Purple Owl: I'm sorry I'm late.

Teacher looks at the clock.

Teacher: The attendance says you came 20 minutes ago. What happened?

Purple Owl: I was in the bathroom.

Teacher: For 20 minutes?

She nods.

Teacher: Okay. I'm glad to see your project. You'll present just before recess. Have a seat, Purple Owl.

Purple Owl goes to her seat and her guy best friend smiles at her.

Classmate: Why are you so late? Might as well not have come. I mean you never do anyway.

Guy Friend: Leave her alone.

The classmate huffs and looks away.

Purple Owl stares at her friend. Usually she's the one standing up for him.

Purple Owl: Thanks.

Guy Friend: You're welcome. You do it for me.

He looks at her.

Guy Friend: Are you okay, Purple Owl?

Purple Owl nods.

(Beat)

Guy Friend: Are you sure?

Teacher: No talking.

Guy Friend: Sorry.

He glances at Purple Owl and then looks at the student presenting.

Purple Owl feels a nudge. She looks up to the class and teacher staring at her. Guess it's her turn. She walks up and gives her presentation.

The bell rings as she finishes. She walks to the back of the room in a daze.

Her two best friends wait for her.

Girl friend: Are you okay?

Purple Owl nods.

Guy friend: For sure?

Purple Owl sighs. Her pain is gone. She can breathe. Purple Owl smiles.

Purple Owl: Yes, for sure. Let's go eat our snack so we can play.

Her friends follow her out.

Purple Owl talks to her friends while she eats. She laughs while she plays. And listens closely to the rest of class.

I filled out the conversations a bit. But the framework was the same. My first panic attack is burned into my memory. I wish I couldn't see Purple Owl falling apart in her elementary bathroom.

But I can. And it gives me understanding of the panic attacks I've had since. At 7, I didn't even know that phrase. But now it gives me relief. Relief to know I'm not alone or strange.