Just Keep Walking

I finally took the plunge and bought a walking pad.

It's been years since I've had a full-size exercise machine. I had an elliptical for many years, which was my first love in the early days of my AN, then an exercise bike for a while. In recent years I've only had smaller items (like an aerobic step, mini exercise bike, and a mini stepper) but mostly they're more geared towards building muscle than I'd like, whereas I'd rather get rid of it.

I've always liked the idea of being able to walk inside without having to pace in endless loops, but I wasn't sure if I'd get used to the sensation of the moving belt, so I was apprehensive. It took a couple of days to adapt, but now I'm loving it. After the initial period of getting used to it - 60 minutes on the first day, 90 minutes on the second day - I've been doing a full two hours each day, broken up into three or four sessions.

I did have one rest day, and felt much better for it physically (my legs have been screaming at me), but in little over a week, I feel that all-too-familiar anxiety already taking root. I didn't think I'd be using it this much, at least not initially, but it already feels non-negotiable, an obligation to hit the numbers before I can rest. It's constantly hanging over my head. At the end of the day, I've been so tired, I haven't had energy to do much else. I was determined to get a post done today though, even though it means I've only done 40 80 minutes so far, and will have to keep going once I've posted this.

I'm hoping it'll be exactly what I need to break the plateau I've been stuck at for months now. It's far too early to tell, but I'm cautiously optimistic.

I guess it's as good a reason as any to get out of bed in the morning. Plus, I'm smashing through audiobooks.

I told Psychologist about the laxatives. I wasn't sure if I would. I could feel myself dancing around the issue, trying to avoid it, but knowing I should tell her.

Towards the end of our sessions, she always asks if there's anything else I wanted to talk to her about. Most of the time, I've usually covered the important things.

This time, I paused.

"Um..."

Pause.

Then, it all spilled out. I told her about how I've been getting fixated on self-harm, the vivid thoughts of carving myself open, knowing exactly where the blade should start and stop. I told her about the laxatives. That I crave lasting pain they give, not just momentary like other forms have been.

We spoke a bit about distress tolerance techniques, and gave me a plan to follow using a few different methods. She wants me to try it when my distress levels are like a 6/10, and see if it drops any. The idea is to do it before it gets to a 10/10, before it gets to the point where I'm DoorDashing laxatives.

1. Stop, don't act

2. Face in ice water, or ice pack, cold shower, etc

3. 60-90 seconds of movement to increase the heart rate (suggested star jumps)

4. Breathing exercises

5. Chew strong gum, peppermints, something sour, etc

I couldn't help but laugh at the star jumps. It's the one thing I have tried before. Back in 2013, trying to avoid self harm, I tried jumping up and down on the spot and shaking my arms. The first time I tried it, I sprained my arch. Once it healed, I tried the technique again, and immediately sprained the other arch. Fool me twice...

So far, I'm only really doing the exercise part (which scratches part of the 'self destruction' itch). I don't really know how to stop as the first step. A week after my last post, when the urge came, I immediately opened Amazon and ordered three bottles of laxatives, then took them as soon as they were delivered two days later (note: it still didn't feel like enough). I like the idea of the whole process, but it seems that actually starting it is the problem. I don't know how to circumvent the impulse.

She asked if I'd told the rest of the team. I said I'd told S, but still wasn't sure if I was going to tell Dietitian or GP. She said that if I did, GP knows they can call her if they have any concerns.

I laughed "I don't know that she does."

At our last appointment (when she agreed to increase the Seroquel further - still waiting to see if it helps), GP asked me if I've ever thought about linking in with psychology. I've been seeing my current psych for 9 years, in-and-out of different mental health professionals since I was 12. 

It made me realize just how little she knows about me and my overall situation. I know it's still early days, but after 6 months of fortnightly appointments, I was shocked that she didn't even know I have a psychologist. It makes me wonder what else she just doesn’t know about yet. 

xxBella