The Door Never Fully Closes
TW: mentions of eating disorders
A dear friend from residential, Kennedy, told me recently “the door never fully closes” in the context of maladaptive coping skills. And, goddamn, did that turn out to be true this week.
Over the weekend, I had one of those rapid cycling, intense mood swings that are common with BPD. My parents visited me at my residential treatment facility Saturday evening, which obviously was fulfilling. My housemates and I then had a blast dancing to loud 2010s music and getting drenched via hosings in the backyard. I already felt unusually happy and of course I finally had the courage to pick up the phone and call the girl I like. We had a wonderful conversation filled with intellectually stimulating inquiries, resounding laughter, and dare I say a hint of flirtatious banter? Eventually, I was kicked off the phone by a tech but as the girl’s sweet parting words permeated my skin, the elation was indescribable. I felt like gardenias and bumblebees were emanating from my veins. I was buzzing with energy and wanted to cook up a feast or run 10 miles or screech the words to Enchanted or at the very least, talk to someone about my infatuation. I knew, however, that if I leaned into my ecstasy, I would only make decisions I’d later regret. So I reluctantly went upstairs, got ready for bed, and jumped under the covers. Half an hour later, it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep any time soon as my thoughts were racing and I couldn’t even lie still. I went downstairs to ask for my hydroxyzine, which I knew would knock me out in another 30 minutes.
The next morning, I woke up with worms in my stomach. I knew that after yesterday’s high, today would inevitably come with a crash. Since it was only a matter of when, my anxiety continued to grow until I felt myself being pelted with a flurry of unpleasant emotions. I was miserable about Kennedy discharging soon. For a while, all I could do was cry and sit with my fear of them forgetting about me as soon as they left. I spoke to another friend at residential about my deep sadness and she reminded me that it’s not worth feeling emotions preemptively and to try to make the most of the time we did have left. That did help a little and I wanted to keep talking to her but then a tech came to tell me it was time to start dinner clean up, my chore for the week.
I got my ass up, wiped the last of my tears, and went to the kitchen to begin washing dishes. After I had finished the large majority of the work and all that was left to wash were serving utensils, I went to find one of the other people who was supposed to help with dinner wrap up. Long story short, it led to an argument where we both said things we now regret. After we were separated, the guilt and anger set in, so I started bawling. I was scrunched up into a ball, tears and snot were dripping down my face, and I was panting so heavily it felt like I could barely breathe.
That night, Kennedy sat with me for hours till I was distracted and smiley again. I was so grateful for their support, but it was yet another reminder of their upcoming departure. Additionally, one of the major things I’m working on in therapy is self-regulation since I tend to rely on others too much when I’m upset, and in this situation, I have no idea how I would have regulated myself. I started to future-trip because most of the time, my friends in college aren’t able to show up for me in the same way, whether it’s because they’re locked in to academics or just don’t get why I’m so distressed over a seemingly small upset. How will I possibly be okay next semester if I can’t self-regulate?, next semester, I’ll face rejection in my toughest moments and get even worse, etc. I began to feel paralyzed with fear about my own emotionality.
The root cause of my eating disorder is that exact fear — I’d rather stay hungry to numb my emotions than feel them and the intense pain and potential danger that comes with them. Sure enough, the next day I started relapsing with my ED and could barely look at food without gagging. I was extremely frustrated with myself since I really thought I was past the point where I needed to heavily restrict. I still struggled from time to time, of course, but I didn’t think I was going to fall so far back into unhealthy habits again. The door truly never ever fully closes.