Coping Mechanisms

***Trigger warning: self injury, alcohol, drugs, food addiction***

I posted this blog about a week ago, then chickened out and promptly took it down after a few hours.  It's hard to talk about "demons," addictions, coping, and the horrible things I used to do to myself.  It's actually really triggering and weirdly isolating for me...it reminds me of how secretly messed up I was (am?) and that makes me feel like a weird-o.  But I've set out on a mission to be totally truthful about this entire ugly, amazing, rewarding, challenging, sweaty process, warts and all.  

I am fascinated by coping mechanisms.  The way that we, as individuals and/or entire groups or societies, handle problems and stress in different ways is so interesting to me.

No longer true, but this graphic did strike me as funny, given the topic of today's blog post.

And my coping mechanisms have always been...well...let's call them "flawed."  (Diplomatic code for "completely messed up").

Through this process, I've come to appreciate the power of honesty and transparency.  I hid parts of myself for such a long time from everyone, including friends, family, and even my husband (often unsuccessfully, but I sure did try!).  Keeping things to myself made me feel like I had something to be ashamed of, when I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of (except my secret love of Taylor Swift).

So let's talk about my coping mechanisms, shall we?

First...the old.

Things I've given up doing.  

Some I'm glad are gone.  

Some I miss daily.  

They were as comforting as a snuggly afghan crocheted by my sassy and adorably mean grandma Lois, and when you wrap up in it you can still smell her...a faint whiff of homemade marinara, vanilla extract, and Virginia Slims.  (If that's not comforting to you, sub in your own happy memory and you'll get the idea).

Oh Lordy, here we go.

Former coping mechanisms that I have given up (for the most part) in no particular order:

1) Food.  Obviously.  I did not eat my way to 363 pounds (my heaviest weight ever, displayed here on the interwebs for all of you to read) by being mindful and paying attention to how I treated my body and what I put in it.  I would "numb" myself with food when I felt anxious, or ashamed, or scared, or angry, or even just bored.  I'm Italian...and we also celebrate with food.  Yikes.

2) Alcohol.  Ugh, I'm getting a headache just thinking of the epically terrible two-day hangovers I used to get from railing cheap vodka and Boone's Farm.  *barf*  My freshman year of college is a hazy blur of basements at party houses and Southern Comfort/Mountain Dew cocktails in random dorm rooms.  I was once called "a female Jim Morrison" because I would seriously drink anything you put in front of me.  Not proud of that nickname, let me tell you.  

3) Drugs.  This was also an excellent way to forget about things.  Hazy and comfortable, exactly the way I wanted to be.  You don't have to feel ANYTHING when you're stoned all the time (again, I feel the need to reiterate, this habit is donezo...just in case anyone at the Wisconsin DRL or the nursing board secretly follows my blog).

4) Literally pulling my hair out.  Sweet mother of crap, I can't believe I'm writing this.  I have the glorious combination of self-injuring and OCD-like symptoms, officially called trichotillomania. This means I literally pulled my hair out.  For years.  In fact, I still have a bald spot that is coming back in.  It's both a reflex you do without thinking about and somehow also a direct command that you must obey.  And it's not easy to stop.  Imagine this:  There is a mosquito on your arm.  You feel his little mosquito feet walking around, looking for the perfect place to bite you.  It feels weird and it's itchy.  EVERY SINGLE FIBER OF YOUR BEING is telling you to swat him away.  For people with trichotillomania, pulling is/was exactly the same way...it makes absolutely no sense but every single molecule in my body wanted me to pull out my hair.  It was like an uncontrollable drive within myself and it had to be done or I wouldn't feel right, or wouldn't feel in control.  And it hurt but it felt good to hurt myself...for some reason I thought I deserved it and it was gratifying to punish myself (straight effed, I know).  Interesting factoid: Olivia Munn (aka actress and Aaron Rodgers' girlfriend) has trichotillomania also.  Also, this is really embarrassing to share but I'm on a quest for transparency here... so the next time you see me, if you could pretend you never read this and NOT bring it up, I'd really appreciate it.  Also, try not to stare at my hair or I'll be on to you.

Coping mechanisms I have kept from the olden days:

1) Swearing.  Again, obviously.  Swearing is an amazing defense mechanism.  Many types of people are less likely to get too close when you have a filthy pirate mouth.  Swearing is viewed by many as unfeminine and unattractive...and when, subconsciously, that's how you want to appear, it's an amazing tool to have.  I have a love/hate relationship with swearing.  Mostly because I am not offended by it at all.  I'm offended by name-calling, but the f-bomb doesn't raise my hackles in the least.  Ho hum.

Brand-spanking new coping mechanisms:

1) Sweating like a pig (even though apparently, pigs don't sweat.  The more you know).  This is my favorite one.  The gym is my therapy.  Did I ever, EVER, in a billion years, think I would say that?  Ever?  Um...no.  It's an amazing outlet for frustration and anger, even sadness (although working through sadness at the gym sometimes results in crying at the gym which can be AWKWARD...just ask my trainer).  Good AND bad days are improved by gym time. It's amazing, when you feel great, to leave the gym feeling even better.  It's even more amazing, when you feel like crap, to leave the gym feeling great.  Half dead and sore, but great.  Lifting heavy things is unbelievably empowering and uplifting.  It's hard to be sad when you know you get to deadlift.

2) This lovely blog.  Again, an amazing outlet for frustration, anger, sadness, JOY, etc.  Sharing what's happening, my struggles and setbacks and accomplishments, has brought me so much peace through this process!

Who else remembers this from middle school guidance?

3) Actually feeling my feelings.  This is EXHAUSTING and was really hard to begin doing.  But if I'm mad, I just let myself be mad.  If I'm sad, I cry.  If I'm happy, I do an embarrassing happy dance or make out with my husband (you're welcome, Jeff).  I don't numb myself with anything anymore, which is so tiring.  How have you all gone through your entire lives feeling everything all the time??  Why didn't anybody tell me it was so tiring but so awesome? Seriously.  I've never taken so many dang naps in my life, yo.  But I've also never felt more in tune with myself and the world around me.  Things are glorious and awful, hideous and lovely.  It's amazeballs.

Now, how did I stop doing all that old unhealthy crap and start doing the new stuff?  

I wish I could tell you.  I wish I could say, "here, world, it's the magic pill that made me stop doing horrible things to my body to cope with my problems and deal with things in a constructive way instead!  You're welcome and goodnight!"

But the truth is this: I have absolutely no idea.  Seriously, I think voodoo magic or baby gypsy tears were involved.  I've made conscious efforts to let go of my coping with food and ripping my hair out before...many many many many times before, in fact.  And I've never been able to do it.  The intoxicants were easy to stop...somehow I never got addicted to them (which given my personality is a frickin Christmas miracle), I just liked them a lot.  

I can only say, the motivation from my health gurus and my amazing family and besties finally made me look at my coping mechanisms and realize that they are less than awesome...and to run full tilt boogie towards my new addictions.