I just watched this movie, Sharing the secret. Some of you probably know of it, it's about a 14 year old girl with bulimia. It's a bit triggering, so I don't especially suggest watching it if you aren't in an entirely good place, and it's also a bit naive in certain respects, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I especially liked it when, towards the end, the girl wonders how, after talking about such deep and difficult things, she can go back to the "real world", where all anyone cares about are boys and makeup. It made me think of this community, where we expose all of our pain and then have to somehow go back to the real world. I especially felt this way coming back to "normality" after all I had experienced, before, during and immediately after my hospitalization.
On the plane back from Singapore over a month ago, I also watched Side effects. This was an equally slightly triggering movie, especially so close to my recent overdose. The first half is best (the second falls a bit flat), and I found that it depicted pain in a way that makes a lot of sense to me.
Now, I am back home, with my parents. School began once again last Tuesday. Already overwhelmed, I'm just trying to stay afloat and to live day-by-day. The schedule is grueling and, when I arrive home, I am typically exhausted and just barely have the energy to prepare for the next day before going to bed and having it all begin again. There has been drama in my house, and I am going to move in with my Nonna. The main reason I haven't yet is a bit difficult to explain; when I am with her, it's like we can each see the extent of our own pain reflected back at us through the other's eyes. I don't know if I am strong or brave enough to face that yet.
I am no longer living with or speaking to my old roommate. The story is a long and painful one for me, which I can't even imagine trying to explain in a blog post. I am probably wrong or overreacting, but to me it feels as though her betrayal has cut me so deeply. But that's not the worst, to me, I don't think; the worst is that I was willing to remain her friend if she reached out to me, but she didn't. She decided to let me fall and has made a point of no longer speaking to me. Which is ironic, I suppose, since she's the one who has destroyed me.
So I spend everyday trying to remain close to the few other friends that I have left, trying to stay strong, trying to make it through, one day at a time. No one quite understands, which leaves me alone with myself, especially at night. When my mind and body finally relax, I am filled with old regrets, pain, grief for my lost friend and my lost Nonno, flashbacks from the horrible reality of when I was in the hospital... The rest of the time, it's like none of it ever happened; but, at the darkest hour, my brain enjoys looping it all together and putting it on replay, making me watch the movie over and over again.
This all sounds very dark and scary, but that's mostly what happens at night. In the day, I am focused on my 7 to 8 daily hours of class, lunch with one of my three friends, then getting home, preparing for the next day, and going to bed. Calorie counting has re-become a habit, but I haven't vomited in about a week, which is good. I've cut myself off of my medication as it was leading to terrible binges, and that seems to have helped greatly in building more stable eating habits, as eating too much always left me nauseated. It wasn't even that I necessarily wanted to throw up, more that I had to rush to the bathroom to do so. The medication was also causing worse nights, many dreams and nightmares, and drowsiness in the morning. I feel a bit better now that I've stopped taking it.
I've also been trying not to be as isolated, at school and with my old friends. Trying to attend all my classes is a challenge, but I am attending most, which is already such a big improvement compared to last semester. I'm sorry that I haven't been as present in this community over the last few months; I've been making a point of reading all your blogs diligently, but I simply have not felt able to comment or to post. It is impossible for me to explain what happened in Singapore. It is impossible for me to explain what it was like to try to die. But thank you so much for all your kind and supportive comments during this difficult time, they have really meant a lot.
All my love,