Re-introduction
CW: Talk of disordered eating, anxiety, depression
When I started writing here I wanted to share reality and dispel myths about eating disorders. That quickly morphed into my mental illness journey — past, present and (anxious) future. There is a lot of myth and misunderstanding about mental health conditions so yeah, made sense.
I wrote a post early on about my relationship with swim suits that was very raw and in the moment. Many took it as a cry for help. I know it was coming from a place of love, yet I was not at risk. My intent was not to scare you about my well-being. I wanted to provide a peek into the tornado of body-loathing and self-hatred thoughts. If it scared you? Welcome to my brain weasels. They own real estate. Some days they quietly exist and leave me alone. And some days (weeks) are complete assholes throwing a rager in my head.
This is the challenge I’m finding with my stories —My intent is to be (unfiltered) real and honest about what I’m dealing with in anxiety, depression and disordered eating. How many times do those of us living with mental health condition get exasperated, roll our collective eyes — or —just sigh and stay silent. It is fucking exhausting to try and explain an experience to someone that cannot comprehend mental illness. Seriously, when I say I’m having a bad day and I cannot get out of bed, I physically cannot get out of bed. It’s not an exaggeration. I realize this may sound weird/ridiculous/unnatural to you, how can a person not be able to stand up and get out of bed?. It is not anything to me but real. I cannot feed myself let alone drink water. And usually the tissues are wayyyyyyyyyyy over there so I’ll just wipe my face with my sheets (soaked in a few hours) Maybe tomorrow I’ll have just enough energy to put on a mask and pretend to be your-definition-of Normal.
So yeah, maybe my stories are risky. Or being told too soon? If the conversation around mental health conditions are just starting to get the light of media, training, awareness? It could scare people if they start to understand, even slightly, what someone with mental illness lives with on a daily basis. Or not, maybe it is exactly the right time to be raw and honest about the experience. Maybe create some allies? Listen. Seek to understand. Don’t try and fix it.
So — Hi. My name is Jen Guadagno. I live with generalized anxiety disorder, depression and an eating disorder.
I see a psychiatrist. He prescribes medication I take daily to help my brain function “normally”. We meet regularly to talk about what I’m having a hard time dealing with, how to manage my anxiety, and Going Into the depression to get on the other side quicker (still testing this out). I used to think I was stronger than my need for medication. I’ve cycled on and off meds since my 20’s to varying degrees of success or failure. I went back on meds, permanently, a few years back. And in the reality of my medical treatment — I have depressive episodes and anxiety attacks. Medication does not fix or eliminate the mental illness, it puts me on better foundation to do the work instead of having to first crawl out of a pit.
I grew up in an alcoholic house with a very angry father. I was overweight as a child. I stuffed my feelings into food. Mid-way through college I started purging. And exercising a lot. And substituting cigarettes and black coffee for meals. In my 20’s I completed an intensive outpatient treatment program for bulimia, calorie restriction and excessive exercise. I had group therapy twice a week, individual therapy once a week (twice in the beginning), I saw a nutritionist, and attended a weekly support group. At the time, a typical day for me was consuming 600 calories, working out twice, and binge/purging when I had the money to fill my cart with ice cream and other “purgeable foods”. Obscene amounts of ice cream. It took a few years for me to not fall back on my eating disorder as a coping mechanism. It is not completely gone. Every day I have a choice with what I will do at meal time. Or at the gym. Or at the grocery store when I’m so stressed out, I look down and recognize I’ve put in “safe foods” to get me to tomorrow. While I no longer actively engage in destructive ED behaviors, in the worst of my anxiety and/or depression I can desperately want to use food to cope. You might see me eat less on my plate, this is still a win. You might see me eating the same meal over and over, again, a win. My eating disorder is very much part of my everyday life.
I want to keep writing. I want people to read my stories and have whatever reaction is natural for them. I hope that maybe one day someone will read my words and feel a little less alone, to know the struggle is there and help is available. I want those closest to me to ask questions, I may not always be willing or ready to talk, I know I’m cared and loved for when you do ask.
If my stories continue to alarm you, I would encourage you to consider that reactions is providing insight to the realities of mental illness.
Cause yeah,
this is serious shit that isn’t fixed
with taking my drugs, trying harder or putting on a smile.
