Tuesday, November 18, 2008
A lot of my remaining "problems" seem to revolve around the deprivation issue, and the voice in my head telling me I should be able to live happily while deprived. That I shouldn't want or ask for more of anything that I'm deprived of. Things I am or have been deprived of include love, health and money, and everything that money can buy - comfort, novelty, excitement, a social life. Not to mention treatment, a healthy diet. Having money would mean having much better health, or so I believe. But I am stuck in the Catch 22 - my illness keeps me poor, my poverty keeps me unhealthy. I rarely go out with friends, and a big reason for this is because I don't have money to spend shopping, eating out, going to movies, even for taking the bus. I am and always have been living in a state of deprivation, on the edge of financial panic. Even when I was a child I was consistently made aware of lack of money, having to fight for extra clothes, feeling guilty because my father was often out of work and still trying to pay child support. My mother worked so much I felt we were very poor. I've been told by my father that wasn't the case, but, even if he's right, it doesn't change the perception I had when I was a child. Despite this, money was the only thing my parents gave me at all. My dad has always given me cash for birthdays and Christmas, and my mother gave me food and shelter. It is a proven fact that a person needs more than this to thrive. I've written before about the lack of love I got in my childhood. This core deprivation adds to the anxiety I have about money and material things, including food. I was once asked why I couldn't just stop when I had had enough, and I reacted immediately with defensive anger. To someone with my eating disorder, this question is akin to asking the depressed why they don't just get up and do something, or why can't they just be happy? Thinking about this incident later, I realized the truth is, there IS no enough. I can't leave a plate with food on it, nor can I stop eating during a binge until I feel sick or run out of food. I don't know how to explain the link between feeling deprived and not being able to stop, but seems an intuitive link that anyone could grasp. Fear of not having enough makes you take everything you can get your hands on. I am somewhat of a pack-rat too. I keep clothes that are ruined or don't fit, planning to use them for crafts. I have an entire wardrobe of clothes that are 3 sizes too small, because I keep thinking I'm going to lose weight. Throwing those clothes away feels like giving up. People on TV say that you should never keep clothes that are too small, because it damages your self esteem, and if you do manage to lose weight, you deserve to buy new clothes that fit. I don't have that luxury. If I lost a bunch of weight and didn't have those clothes, I would be stuck wearing things that were too big, or trying to alter them. The world is not made for people like me, poor people, sick people, single people. And I originally got sick and stayed single because I felt I didn't belong anyway, and pushed myself too hard for too long to be someone I wasn't. But, the topic is supposed to be deprivation. I really want to work on how it is affecting me, but I don't even know where to start, as evidenced by the fact that I went off on a tangent. I can't seem to even begin to dig into this issue, can't find any words to...there is almost a physcial resistance to asking myself questions about deprivation. My mind gets fuzzy, and I start feeling anxious. But I know I have to deal with this, and I want to, so it is frustrating that I am not getting anything to work with. I thought if I started writing, it would come. It hasn't. I guess I will have to wait to have a real entry about it.
I sometimes write things that I don't really mean or believe. These are not to be taken literally, nor as definitive statements about me or my beliefs. Thoughts and emotions are transient, and I reserve the right to change my mind, generalize, exaggerate, give strong opinions, or write other possibly offensive statements. I don't lie, but I may say something that's not true to check whether I believe it or not, or to make a point. Call it creative license. This is my blog, and do have the right to say what I want. I'm using it in creatively therapeutic ways. Whatever the reader may think of me and my words, please believe that my core intentions are always good and I never willingly hurt anyone.