And Still I Keep Going

It’s been quite some time since I’ve put words out there in the universe. It’s only when I see the words on the screen, or on paper, that they become real. I actually have to admit what’s really going on. And sometimes I don’t want to. I don’t want to deal with stuff. I’d rather avoid it. Because if I avoid it, then it doesn’t really exist, right? Right. But I can’t run from certain things anymore.

It’s been about a week and a half now since my grandmother passed away.  My heart aches so much. She was my beacon of light. My grandmother was the best person in my life. She taught me so many wonderful things. I don’t allow myself to think about her too much because I start to choke on my tears.  The pain of her not being in my life is too much.

Every once in a while I still get a piece a piece of mail with my ex’s name on it.  It throws me for a loop and back into the place where I blame myself for everything.

I figured out that I’m jealous of my best friend.  And my therapist.  Different reasons, same feelings inside.  I don’t like feeling jealous.

I don’t like feeling.

I just want to be numb.  I just want to binge and purge my way through my break from work and school.  I just want to sit and not feel anything.

But I can’t even do that because m mother is visiting.  She’s in my way.  Constantly wanting to know what I’m doing and if I’m okay.  I don’t like it when anyone invades my space like that.  It makes me want to shut down.

The only thing I’m looking forward to is school starting next semester.  Then I can be busy again.  Then I’ll know how to spend my evenings and weekends.

Until then, I’m just going to keep putting one foot in front of the other and maybe I’ll be able to breathe a bit easier one of these days.



The crying needs to stop. NOW. I don’t like being all teary eyed all day long. I don’t like it when I’m anxious and jittery that I can’t think about anything other than escaping. I don’t like that I haven’t been able to finish a meal without crying the past couple of days. I don’t like it that I’m slacking on my responsibilities but can’t find the energy to get them done properly (so why do them at all?)

I’m usually much better at handling my emotions. I’m really good at compartmentalizing everything. At least I used to be. Now, it’s like everything is bubbling and I can’t keep the lid down. I have no idea how I used to do it.

I tried writing in my journal over the weekend to help me process some of this stuff, but I got so incredibly angry that I started shaking and had to stop.

I don’t want anyone to think I can’t handle this because I can. But I’m sick and tired of people telling me that this is the best thing to happen and that I will be okay. Well, no shit. I will be okay because I have no other choice than to be okay. And it’s not that I want to talk about myself every single second of every single day, but it would be nice if someone other than my parents, 1 friend, and 1 acquaintance asked how I was doing. I just feel so alone. And sad. And angry.

I am having a hard time reaching out. I always have. I just feel like since everyone knows I’m normally strong and resilient, then I must be okay now. But it’s not true. I feel like I’m crumbling. (I can’t even afford therapy right now. I’m a mess.) All I want to do is hide away in bed.

This pity party needs to stop. I just need to pull myself up with my boot straps and dry my tears. I can be strong like everyone thinks I am. I can handle it.

No. Really. I can.

I just don’t want to.

More Than I’d Like to Admit

I am hurting.

Yes, things were going downhill for a while. Yes, I asked him to leave. Yes, I know it was the right thing and I will be okay.

But I’m still hurting.

And I’m exhausted.

I just wish I could sleep. For a week. At least.

I try to go bed early. But I end up watching tv or my thoughts take over. And the next thing I know it’s almost midnight. Then the alarm goes off. And it’s just too early. I lie in bed contemplating whether or not to take the day off work. But going to work always wins out. If I want to take the week off after thanksgiving, then I need to go to work. What will I do if I stay at home? Watch dvd’s, since he took cable and internet? Why should I waste a day doing absolutely nothing? And going to work will get me out of the house.

I have my literature class tonight. There’s a paper that’s due. I just can’t bring myself to write it. I’ve tried. Somewhat. I have an opening paragraph. That’s all. I keep telling myself that I’ll do it, but I can’t seem to get to it. I’ve convinced myself that I’m willing to hand it in late and get a lower grade. Maybe I am.

I totally binged on dinner last night. It was like old times. I hadn’t even realized I had done it until the food was gone. I tried to rationalize that I was legitimately hungry, especially since I’ve been unconsciously restricting since the weekend. I felt so sick after. And I started feeling really anxious. About the food, the separation, the undone homework. It just all seems like too much. I wanted so badly to purge. But I didn’t let myself. Part punishment, part exhaustion.

I’m just trying to keep it together. And I don’t know how much longer I can.

Keep Piling it On

Thoughts running around

Nothing is safe

Memories flood my head

I can’t get over the past few days

Panic attacks come and wipe me out

Numb to my surroundings

Barely able to lift a finger

I want them to disappear

I want to disappear

Just enough to keep going

My thoughts are holding me hostage

I want to break free

The more I fight

The stronger they hold on

Miss Independent

I grew up as an only child. I think this has given me some advantages. There are disadvantages too. One of the main ones is over self reliance. I’ve done a good amount on my own and I’m proud of that, but it also made it difficult to ask for help. I once told my dad that I was very self reliant and he said he didn’t mean for it to turn out like that. And I get it. I’d rather do a project on my own. If I can do something myself, I’ll rarely ask for help, even if it overwhelms me. I think a subset of that is being okay alone. I know how to entertain myself and I don’t necessarily need someone there.

But all that has changed now. When I started opening up to my husband when we were dating, I found myself starting to rely on him. It was small things at first–helping me carry something or doing something on the small side. And that grew. I find myself relying on him quite a bit now (well, in comparison from before).

I also like just being with him. We don’t have to be doing anything in particular, just sitting and watching TV or reading. I like the physical contact to. A hand hold, a quick hug, sitting next to each other. But none of that happens when we fight or are angry at each other.

There ends up being barely any contact between each other, physical or otherwise, when we are at odds. And it makes me realize how much I’ve become accustomed to the regular and normal contact between us. It doesn’t bode well for my mental health.

I get more anxious and really depressed. I get quiet and start thinking of everything bad and that just makes everything worse. Because then I start thinking that I really don’t need my husband. I was fine before he entered my life and I’ll be okay if he’s not in it anymore. I know it’s extreme, but that’s where my head goes.

I don’t like fighting with my husband. I don’t like having to explain myself over and over again to him even more. It’s exhausting. I wish he could understand that sometimes, it’s not worth the fight. In the long run, it’s not that big of a deal. But he makes it into a big deal, then I just run with it.

It’s frustrating.

These Lonely Nights

My husband has been working late this past week.  I’ve been alone in the apartment each evening, not really knowing what to do with myself.

There was the attempt at cleaning, but I’ve been absolutely exhausted because of the anxiety that I only had energy to clean the windows.  There was also the attempt at going to bed early, but that resulted in getting my second (or third) wind and not falling asleep until late.  And let’s not forget about the desire to read, only to stop halfway down the page because my eyes hurt (and I kinda really had no idea what I had just read).  Or attempting to finish one of my many started-but-not-quite-finished projects, but, once again, there’s just no energy.  (Or is it laziness now?  Because I’m sure if I really set my mind to it, I could do something.)

But instead–wait for it–I sit on my couch and play games on my phone and I’ll cuddle with my puppy.  But when my concentration wanes, it’s back to staring at the TV.

I, more often than not, go on these magical rides on my trains of thought.  And it’s usually not a very positive thing.  I berate myself for being ugly, stupid, fat, lazy, etc., then again for not doing anything to change it, and once more for good measure because I’m still struggling with an eating disorder.  It’s not a pretty cycle.

During these times, I’m much more likely to engage in eating disorder behaviors.  And it’s a lot hard to justify not going through with them because I am along.  I have an easier time fighting the urge when there’s someone else there with me.  They don’t have to know what I’m doing, but just having them there makes the fight easier to win.  I try to fight the thoughts when I’m alone, but I just don’t have the energy.

I thought I was ready for recovery, but maybe I want to hold on to the eating disorder a little bit longer.