Hello world!
I am still here. I decided to close my story here and compile it into a memoir. It is far from done as of today.
If you are interested in following me, I have a new blog here: http://swimminginafishbowl.com/.
Lisa
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Identity Crises
I am having a web identity crisis. I have been writing on the Internet since 2004. I started out on Live Journal, moved to Word Press briefly before landing on Blogger with my memoir (now empty as I have removed the text of my posts). I want very much to find a place to stay put and think that this blog may not be it. For now, it will have to do.
I am also having a general identity crisis. I was diagnosed as having an eating disorder last week. Eating Disorder (NOS) is the official, undefined diagnosis. I'm relieved, excited, hopeful and overwhelmed. I am relieved to understand that my years of yo-yo dieting and unhealthy habits mean something other than my perceived years of failure. I'm excited to be getting help and hopeful that this will mean I will reach a healthier weight and better behaviors with food, exercise and body image. Finally, I am overwhelmed because there is so much to take in.
There is a statistic I read that shows a high rate of success for people seeking treatment for eating disorders. I can't find it, so I won't try to quote it. The rate was much better than what I have found than that of losing weight and keeping it off through dieting (it seems this is between 6-20%). 6-20% chance of losing weight and keeping it off! That's it! If I am understanding it correctly, this means 80-94% of dieters fail! Ah, found the percentage of recovery rates. It's from this Wikipedia article, so trust this quote at your own risk: "Prognosis estimates are complicated by non-uniform criteria used by various studies, but for AN, BN, and BED, there seems to be general agreement that full recovery rates are in the 50% to 85% range, with larger proportions of patients experiencing at least partial remission." This is much more encouraging!
Whatever my chances of recovering, I am positive that I can make it through this. I am looking forward to spending time here (for now) to write out my thoughts as I recover from my eating disorder.
I am also having a general identity crisis. I was diagnosed as having an eating disorder last week. Eating Disorder (NOS) is the official, undefined diagnosis. I'm relieved, excited, hopeful and overwhelmed. I am relieved to understand that my years of yo-yo dieting and unhealthy habits mean something other than my perceived years of failure. I'm excited to be getting help and hopeful that this will mean I will reach a healthier weight and better behaviors with food, exercise and body image. Finally, I am overwhelmed because there is so much to take in.
There is a statistic I read that shows a high rate of success for people seeking treatment for eating disorders. I can't find it, so I won't try to quote it. The rate was much better than what I have found than that of losing weight and keeping it off through dieting (it seems this is between 6-20%). 6-20% chance of losing weight and keeping it off! That's it! If I am understanding it correctly, this means 80-94% of dieters fail! Ah, found the percentage of recovery rates. It's from this Wikipedia article, so trust this quote at your own risk: "Prognosis estimates are complicated by non-uniform criteria used by various studies, but for AN, BN, and BED, there seems to be general agreement that full recovery rates are in the 50% to 85% range, with larger proportions of patients experiencing at least partial remission." This is much more encouraging!
Whatever my chances of recovering, I am positive that I can make it through this. I am looking forward to spending time here (for now) to write out my thoughts as I recover from my eating disorder.
Monday, January 17, 2011
My Third Decade of Life: A Quick Look Back
I have spent some time recently wondering what the meaning of my life has been so far. What has my life meant to my country, the world and my people; those with mental illness? Have I made my mark yet? Looking forward to the years ahead, have I built a foundation for myself that I can use to push ahead and do something worthwhile?
Looking back, I don't see where I have done much of anything productive. I think that this may be true for many 20-somethings. After high school, a person goes to college or works and for many these daily routines are not the central concentration of life. Instead, life is about having a busy social life, finding love or finding sexual conquests and maybe getting some drink on.
The question that I am asking of myself now is, what did I do after high school? Foremost in my mind is my love life. I dated around a bit. First came my time with Timmy, which I would not repeat if I could go back and do it again. It was eight months of drugging, a bit of abuse and the making of memories which very rarely come up in conversation now, even with friends who were there. A general waste of my time, though I think Timmy taught me what to watch out for in a man, as I tried to avoid repeating that mistake. I progressively got closer to my perfect mate; first with Martin, who I hate to admit was a rebound from Timmy, as he was truly a good guy. And then there was John. There isn't a blog post long enough to recount my time with him. My time with John was perhaps my most productive time spent in my 20's. Speaking only of self discovery, being with John helped me find out who I am as it relates to who I should be with. Because of John, I know that I am more of a sexual person than many, not at all political, someone who falls asleep through conversation about numbers, science and automobiles and that I am a genuine person, deserving of someone just as real. Finally, I met who I plan to spend the rest of my life with in my 20's. Mikey came along when I was 23. I would not have guessed I would want to live my life with a conservative, voting American who wants to raise children and likes to shoot deer. But as it turns out, he has the temperament, stability, love of family and sexual appetite that I need in my life.
In the time that I found my true love, I also tackled the monkey on my back and tied him into submission. I was diagnosed as bipolar when I was 22, many years after discovering that something was wrong at as a child and teenager. Much of the worst my disease could do to me was contained by the bit of control my parents had over me. But in my 20's, I had to learn to gain control of my own life. My bipolarity tripped me up at every turn. I would meet a good guy, and treat him like dirt because I could not control my moods. I scared away friends by betraying them; both small and huge betrayals. When I wasn't causing my friends to leave me, I would leave them. The number of break ups with friends cannot be counted on all my fingers and toes, I was so quick to dismiss people for the slightest flaw. In the end I only hung on to two of my friends, at times by the tiniest thread. And finally, I struggled to make it in every place I worked. Nearly losing my first job as a contractor to the navy due to my monthly migraines and the death of a friend; both made more difficult to handle due to my untreated bipolar disorder. My second job with an internet service provider was jeopardized by a manic episode. My third, as a nanny, by my inability to control my spending for a time just long enough to cause me to file for bankruptcy and more notably, have my car repossessed, which caused me to be unable to get to work. My final job as a phone sex operator was doable for someone who is ill and I got by well enough until finally finding my calling working for an education and advocacy group focused on those who are mentally ill.
And what about my career in my 20's? What was my work worth? What kind of mark did I leave? I worked jobs that meant little to my personal belief of what makes up the greater good. I understand that military is a necessary thing for a country to have, but personally, I do not care to aide my country in that aspect. As a nanny, surely I helped the families I babysat for, but did little to further my belief that I contributed to society. I don't think there is any doubt that ISPs are necessary, but what meaning is there in providing internet to the U.S.? Finally, while I enjoyed my time entertaining a massive number of men, I don't think my callers walked away feeling their lives improved for having gotten off to me.
As I get ready to enter my 32nd year of life, I can't look back and say that I feel great about the decade before. But I got by and landed in a place where life seems brighter. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in my twenties and started finding out what that means, I began my career aiding those with mental illness; starting my fight for a cause that is closest to my heart and I began my life with the One, who will help me to create my family. I look forward to what I hope will be another 50+ years of life and hope that in that time I make my mark.
Looking back, I don't see where I have done much of anything productive. I think that this may be true for many 20-somethings. After high school, a person goes to college or works and for many these daily routines are not the central concentration of life. Instead, life is about having a busy social life, finding love or finding sexual conquests and maybe getting some drink on.
The question that I am asking of myself now is, what did I do after high school? Foremost in my mind is my love life. I dated around a bit. First came my time with Timmy, which I would not repeat if I could go back and do it again. It was eight months of drugging, a bit of abuse and the making of memories which very rarely come up in conversation now, even with friends who were there. A general waste of my time, though I think Timmy taught me what to watch out for in a man, as I tried to avoid repeating that mistake. I progressively got closer to my perfect mate; first with Martin, who I hate to admit was a rebound from Timmy, as he was truly a good guy. And then there was John. There isn't a blog post long enough to recount my time with him. My time with John was perhaps my most productive time spent in my 20's. Speaking only of self discovery, being with John helped me find out who I am as it relates to who I should be with. Because of John, I know that I am more of a sexual person than many, not at all political, someone who falls asleep through conversation about numbers, science and automobiles and that I am a genuine person, deserving of someone just as real. Finally, I met who I plan to spend the rest of my life with in my 20's. Mikey came along when I was 23. I would not have guessed I would want to live my life with a conservative, voting American who wants to raise children and likes to shoot deer. But as it turns out, he has the temperament, stability, love of family and sexual appetite that I need in my life.
In the time that I found my true love, I also tackled the monkey on my back and tied him into submission. I was diagnosed as bipolar when I was 22, many years after discovering that something was wrong at as a child and teenager. Much of the worst my disease could do to me was contained by the bit of control my parents had over me. But in my 20's, I had to learn to gain control of my own life. My bipolarity tripped me up at every turn. I would meet a good guy, and treat him like dirt because I could not control my moods. I scared away friends by betraying them; both small and huge betrayals. When I wasn't causing my friends to leave me, I would leave them. The number of break ups with friends cannot be counted on all my fingers and toes, I was so quick to dismiss people for the slightest flaw. In the end I only hung on to two of my friends, at times by the tiniest thread. And finally, I struggled to make it in every place I worked. Nearly losing my first job as a contractor to the navy due to my monthly migraines and the death of a friend; both made more difficult to handle due to my untreated bipolar disorder. My second job with an internet service provider was jeopardized by a manic episode. My third, as a nanny, by my inability to control my spending for a time just long enough to cause me to file for bankruptcy and more notably, have my car repossessed, which caused me to be unable to get to work. My final job as a phone sex operator was doable for someone who is ill and I got by well enough until finally finding my calling working for an education and advocacy group focused on those who are mentally ill.
And what about my career in my 20's? What was my work worth? What kind of mark did I leave? I worked jobs that meant little to my personal belief of what makes up the greater good. I understand that military is a necessary thing for a country to have, but personally, I do not care to aide my country in that aspect. As a nanny, surely I helped the families I babysat for, but did little to further my belief that I contributed to society. I don't think there is any doubt that ISPs are necessary, but what meaning is there in providing internet to the U.S.? Finally, while I enjoyed my time entertaining a massive number of men, I don't think my callers walked away feeling their lives improved for having gotten off to me.
As I get ready to enter my 32nd year of life, I can't look back and say that I feel great about the decade before. But I got by and landed in a place where life seems brighter. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in my twenties and started finding out what that means, I began my career aiding those with mental illness; starting my fight for a cause that is closest to my heart and I began my life with the One, who will help me to create my family. I look forward to what I hope will be another 50+ years of life and hope that in that time I make my mark.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Introduction
I thought I would begin a journal about my daily life and thoughts as I have often wanted to post more current musings than a history of my life. Rather than posting these thoughts to my memoir, where they don't belong, I decided to start a new blog. The honesty that I have used to write my memoir has caused me a bit of struggle. The post about my childhood was particularly difficult to write and even harder to keep visible to the public. Frankly, I became paranoid about it. I started to wonder what would happen to my relationship with my parents, particularly my mother, if they were to ever stumble upon my blog. In the end I took the post down, saving the text for myself and leaving it hidden, possibly never to be shared with another soul again.
To add to my struggle, I have started to wonder what I may be doing to the mass of bipolars in the world, if anyone reading my memoir were to hold me up as a representation of my kind. I created my memoir simply to tell my story, but a part of me hopes that it might open my reader's minds to understanding the disease and to perhaps to humanize it. Bipolar disorder is demonized by many. The disease is misunderstood, as are individuals with the disorder and other mental disorders.
Regardless of how I come across to each person who reads my memoir, writing it and beginning this blog is important to me and so I move forward with both.
To add to my struggle, I have started to wonder what I may be doing to the mass of bipolars in the world, if anyone reading my memoir were to hold me up as a representation of my kind. I created my memoir simply to tell my story, but a part of me hopes that it might open my reader's minds to understanding the disease and to perhaps to humanize it. Bipolar disorder is demonized by many. The disease is misunderstood, as are individuals with the disorder and other mental disorders.
Regardless of how I come across to each person who reads my memoir, writing it and beginning this blog is important to me and so I move forward with both.
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