With everything that’s been going on (ie my possible new job, my husband’s new job, etc.), I’ve really been able to bypass what’s really been going on. I’ve been able to hide how I’ve really been doing. But my cuticles tell a different story.
When I’m anxious, or just having a bad day in general, I tend to pick at my cuticles. I don’t know when it started. It just gives me something to focus on that’s detail oriented. That’s how I am. When I need distraction, I play number/accuracy games on my phone. It’s what helps me get out of my head. It calms me down. Make write down numbers in a particular order and I’m a happy camper. Or better yet, make me count out phrases in music. That’s a fun one!
Having anxiety is not fun. And I jut want it to go away.
My husband came with me to therapy yesterday. He needed to come as we’re having some issues come up. I almost started crying when recalling an incident from late March/early April. I was opening a can of chili and when scooping it out, some of it spilled on the floor. I have a problem with messes, particularly those involving food. I’ve gotten much better over the years, but it can still reduce me to tears. And it did this particular day. My husband started laughing at me, trying to “make light of the situation.” But that just made me cry harder. And I couldn’t get away. He’s bigger and stronger than I am and wouldn’t let me go. So that made it worse.
He knows about the eating disorder. He’s helped me through many a meal and the aftermath. His laughter just hurt. Like he wasn’t/doesn’t take the eating disorder seriously. While I know this isn’t true, it just felt like it at the time. Then I think the eating disorder isn’t serious; it’s just a phase (that I’ve been going through the majority of my life). And if it’s really not that serious, then why am I not doing more with my life? Why am I so lazy and fat? (There’s that “F” word. See how easily it crept into my thoughts?) I should get up and do something. Anything. But I can’t. Because doing something would take energy. And I would need to eat so I have that energy. But I don’t want to eat because I’ll gain weight. So, I’d rather just sit here like a lump and not do anything so I don’t have to eat.
(And it goes around and around like this until I fall asleep.)
I feel like I’m trying to fight these self defeating thoughts. They’re not steps in the direction of recovery. But every time I think it, I believe it a little more. And that gets me into more trouble.
I start to not make any effort to get out of the eating disorder trap. I cut out pictures from magazines. I hunt down pictures from years ago. I write down destructive quotes. I start walking more. I start to be sneaky about exercise. I reduce the number of safe foods I have. I make up die hard rituals that have to be completed before eating. I contemplate using diuretics and laxatives. I stop drinking everything but water and coffee. I start cutting down portions even more. I make more excuses not to go out, not to eat, not to be touched.
Part of me doesn’t mind. I know how this goes. I can handle it. It’s okay. Really. I crave the emptiness.
Part of me minds terribly. I know how life is without the eating disorder being so prominent. It’s much better. Much calmer.
But I kinda want a little chaos right now? I dunno.
This is all taking a toll on me. I just need some time to rest.