Body Dysmorphia Blogs

Wake Up Call

TW: Eating Disorder, Suicide

In my last posts I talked about asking for help when I was struggling.  One of the major reasons I sought help was because I just gotten out of a disastrous relationship and I was not coping well.

The relationship was all sorts of unhealthy and because of it, I started to engage in unhealthy eating habits again.  Thinking back, this is a habit that I tend to fall back on when it feels like I don’t have control over things.

I didn’t think I had a problem until my hair started getting really thin and began falling out.  I was mortified. This was the real reason I asked for help. It is such a vain reason to get help, but I guess no reason is too small to seek help.

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In my most recent post, I wrote about finding therapist who was actually helpful and some of the things she helped me with.  But I stopped seeing her because I didn’t want to do inpatient care.

Looking back, she probably wouldn’t have forced me but I had a lot of irrational thoughts about what she might do.  Part of my Body Dysmorphia Disorder is that I have irrational thoughts and then because of those thoughts I tend to act in irrational ways.

So, I was at a crossroad of getting the help I needed or giving up.  Unfortunately, because my fear was so great, I chose to stop therapy.  My thought was that I made this far in life without the support I needed that I was probably going to be fine without it.  And I was fine for quite a bit.

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I started dating my now husband pretty close to when I quit therapy.  I was happy and things were great, so it didn’t seem like therapy was needed.  I was back to eating regularly.  I was still trying to use the cognitive mapping technique that my therapist taught me so that I could handle things better when I started having my irrational thoughts.  It wasn’t like I abandoned treatment altogether… I just really didn’t want to go to inpatient care.

As time went by, I used the cognitive mapping skill less and less because it seemed I was ‘better.’  My husband and I got married and I began teaching for the first time.  Things were wonderful, but I soon started getting really stressed with work and adjusting to my new home life.  But life went on and I just kept getting more and more stressed.  I don’t know if people understand how demanding teaching is, but until you step foot in a classroom and become accountable for 25+ students’ education, there really isn’t a way to understand or explain it.

Unfortunately, my depression became really bad during my first years of marriage.  I was working 14-hour days, sleeping 5 hours or less, and I became unable to manage my irrational thoughts and behaviors.  I was becoming angrier and angrier about the smallest things.  I was spiraling into very dark places.  This went on for a couple of years before things got really unmanageable.

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Almost two years ago, my husband called the cops on me.  I hadn’t been myself in quite a while and I was having a lot of suicidal thoughts.  I was overwhelmed, things were getting harder, my obsessive thoughts were weighing heavy on me, and I felt that things were never going change.

One night, after my husband went to sleep I made the decision to act upon my thoughts. Even writing this, I don’t remember much of the details because I was so outside of myself.  I honestly felt that this was the only solution.  I could not handle it anymore.  Even though I had my husband and my family, I still felt incredibly isolated. Depression has a funny way of tricking you and making you think the absolute worst things.

Anyway, I did it. I acted on it, but after a few minutes I felt a huge wave of panic crash into me.  I thought to myself, if I whisper to my husband what I did and if he wakes up, I’ll know I made the wrong decision.  So, I whispered to him what I had done and he woke up immediately.

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After that everything is kind of a blur.  I know that I freaked out and locked myself in the bathroom.  My husband told me that I was demanding the car keys because I wanted to drive home.  He said that I was out of control, so the only logical thing was to get some help.  He called the cops.  I remember them coming in vaguely and trying to get me to go to inpatient, but like an idiot, I refused.

That night made me realize that I really did need help.  I could not do this by myself.  I was going to have to find a therapist and start over with a treatment plan, because I wasn’t ‘better.’

To be continued…

~Kymberlee Faye

3 thoughts on “Wake Up Call”

  1. I want to give you the biggest hug ever! I’m another Kimberley (less cool spelling) and in the middle of writing a very similar post. I know how hard this must have been to write and you should be really proud of yourself. Looking forward to the rest of it and wish you all the happiness and luck in the world xx

    Liked by 1 person

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