Doors Closed

I’ve really been struggling with the eating disorder since my husband left.  It’s such a fight to eat.  And now that I’m sick, my appetite has disappeared.  I love seeing the number on the scale go down and am having a really hard time seeing the number go up, even if it’s less than a pound.

I can see myself going downhill quite rapidly.  I see little things creep up that I wouldn’t see normally until I was at a much lower weight.  Actually, they don’t so much creep up as smack me in the face.  Then I obsess and I have to find out more, even if I already know all about it and am rereading the same book/website.  Some of it is kind of worrisome.

I’m having trouble sleeping.  Last night, I barely got 3 hours.  I’m having a hard time paying attention and find myself spacing out quite often.  I’m depressed.  I don’t want to do anything, except lose more weight.  It take a lot to convince myself that it’s okay to eat.  Then it takes a lot to actually eat it.  I’m having a hard time with fluids, too.  The rules and obsessions and routines are becoming more intense and time consuming.

The eating disordered thoughts were really loud last week and in a moment of clarity, I called to see if I could find a therapist that is covered by my insurance.  (I wish I could see my old one, but I can’t afford her.)  The search isn’t going well.  I don’t have any out of network benefits and I haven’t been able to find anyone.  Then in a moment of clarity (weakness?), I called two treatment centers about their evening IOP programs.  It’s not looking good though.  These were the only two who would be willing to work within my school and work schedule.  Got a definite, “No,” from one and waiting to hear back from the other.  I’ll probably get the same answer though.  My insurance sucks.

But then I remember that I want to continue to lose weight.  I really don’t want to be stopped this time.  Not yet anyway.

Advertisements

Standing on the Precipice

I’ve been trying to distract myself for the majority of the day.  I’ve really wanted to just binge and purge all day or, at the very least, just dig out my laxatives.  And I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.  I’ve tried to do homework, watching a movie, playing games on my phone and computer, taking a nap and the urges are still there and just as strong.

Last week, I had been thinking that it might be worth it to try to go through my insurance for a referral for a therapist.  I would love to continue to see the one I was seeing as she knows everything already, but I can’t afford her.  Even with her sliding scale.  The person I called was rude.  After I told her the symptom usage, she asked my weight.  I’m already embarrassed about my weight and it just kills me every time I have to say it out loud.  I lied and told her I weigh ten pounds less than I actually do.  She basically said I was fat.  Actually, she said, “Well, those symptoms haven’t made you thin.”  Yeah.  Ouch.

I’ve just been replaying that conversation over and over in my head.  Every time I go to eat something, I hear her words again.  I feel so guilty after eating, if I eat at all.  All I want to do is lose weight.  As much as I can, as quickly as I can.  I just want the food out.  I want to be empty.

On a good day, I can fight the urges and the thoughts with minimal usage.  Yes, I’m probably still technically engaging in behaviors, but you know what?  It’s better than completely consumed by the eating disorder.  Not really in recovery (but closer than I’ve been in a long time), but not completely consumed either.

I’m just too exhausted to fight it anymore.

Enough

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.

Just Getting Through

I am so bored right now that I started taking pictures at my desk. I feel too guilty reading the book for my literature class, so I just have it sitting there taunting me.

20131106-154522.jpg

I’m so bored right now. But I’m going to take it and run with. It’s better than being anxious and on edge.

I ended up going and staying for my sociology class. I’m glad I did. I got to talk to classmates and really tried to concentrate. I did find myself zoning out a few times, but I’m okay with that. It’s not material I don’t already know and regardless, I think I was engaged about 75% of the time. I’m pretty proud of myself for that. Plus, my test god pushed back a week. That really helps because I was worried I was going to have to pull double duty with studying for the test and writing my lit paper for next week. Now I just have to concentrate on my paper. 🙂

I got home last night and was really agitated and frustrated and angry. I didn’t want to do anything or even really watch anything. I was unpacking a box my parents had sent and just started throwing stuff out of the box. I was just so angry. And I broke down. I didn’t want to cry. I had been holding it together fairly well. I had managed to stop any tears from falling earlier, but I just couldn’t stop last night. I eventually managed to pull myself together. I don’t like losing control when I haven’t scheduled it.

I have a book to finish by tomorrow (which isn’t happening, but I’m going to try), a paper that’s due next Thursday, and a test the Tuesday after that. Then I’m looking at Thanksgiving and then finals. I can’t break down until after finals. I just have to keep going until then. Just putting one foot in front of the other and getting through each day.

20131106-154512.jpg

And this is the view from my desk. It’s always fun looking out at the cement wall of the building next door.

Panic Attack Junction

Yesterday and today have been icky panic attack wise. I got one on the way to work. I almost went back home when I got off to change trains. And on the way home, I got another one because the subway car was too crowded and got off to wait for an emptier train. As I was waiting I started to cry.

I was already tired and I’m sure that restricting at lunch didn’t really help, but I haven’t had two panic attacks in a day in five years.

I didn’t have one this morning. Well, not a full blown one. But I did have increased anxiety. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it to the subway station so I called a car service. (Ugh. I know that sounds ridiculously selfish and spoiled. But it was either that or stay home from work. And that’s never the better option in these situations.)

I know I restricted more than normal yesterday, so I’m trying to eat better today. Breakfast went okay. It was easy to handle. Just slow and steady. And then came lunch. It started out rough and just got out of control. I debated for a while about getting lunch, but I finally ordered something comforting. I knew it would be stressful, but not like this.

I had gotten over the majority my mealtime guilt quite some time ago. This doesn’t mean I still didn’t feel any guilt, but it usually happened after meals. Today’s was during. I almost put the food down and started crying. Then it just got really difficult to swallow. And then the panic set in. And BOOM! Panic attack.

So incredibly not fun. Now I’m just trying to keep it together so I can go to class this evening. I don’t want to skip class, but I’m not 100% certain that I can make it through the whole lecture. But I really want to go to class. But I also just want to sleep.

And She Cries

I think I do a fairly good job of keeping up appearances when I’m not at home.  I am usually serious.  I am aware of my surroundings and I get where I need to get to.  Once there, I’ll let myself relax a little bit.  Not a lot, but some.  It’s only when I’m home where I feel I can really let the wall down and truly be myself.  But something has changed within the past couple of day.

I feel like I’ve gotten more emotional at work, with tears ready to overflow with barely any warning.  I was texting with my best friend about recent issues between my husband and me, and my eyes just filled up.  It’s not a new issue my husband and I are having.  But for some reason, discussing it this week, just made me cry.  I’m usually very good at holding it together when I need to, but I just feel like I’m losing it.

I’m going to partially blame the heatwave this week.  It’s supposed to let up by Sunday.  And I sure hope so.  My boss and I were punchy yesterday at work.  That made everything a lot more fun.  I think the heat’s just getting to me.  At least in these kind of instances.  When speaking about a particular play, I was able to make valid and coherent points.  But if I have to talk about work stuff, I’m a blubbering mess.

This weekend and week ahead are the actual busy times for work.  This means, I don’t really get a break until next weekend.  The work this weekend, won’t be strenuous at all.  I just won’t be able to read for my class.  I don’t like not having enough time.  But at least we’re going to be delving into World War I and I know I have a better understanding of that than the French Revolution.

I think my sleep and eating habits are also partially to blame for my over-emotionalness.  Since I’ve been working on my midterm, I’ve worked after I get home from my class.  I’ve been pretty good about stopping at 11pm.  But then I get sidetracked and distracted and don’t actually fall asleep until midnight.  That just hurts.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that I need more sleep.  And I’m fine with that.  Part is I’m still winding down from a long day, part I’m still thinking about my class and what needs to get done the rest of the week, and part is punishment.  I have to stay up late because I don’t deserve to have a good night’s sleep.  I really don’t need the 8 hours I was getting it before.  I can lower it to 5 or 6.  I can do it.  I can push through.  Uh, yeah.  So not true.  But after years and years of obeying the rules, I just do it without question.

I am restricting.  And going to my class is helping with that.  I have what could be considered “half” of a dinner before class, and I fully intend to have another “half” when I get home.  But I don’t.  It’s too late to eat now.  You’ve missed your chance.  Now you have to wait until morning.  I know what I should do.  I know what needs to be done.  But, for some reason, there’s this big huge block in between the knowing and the doing.  I either want to go ahead and do what I need to do, or not even know and live in ignorance.

I’m just tired of the battle in my head.

She Said, He Does

She said, “I love you.”

He just nodded silently.

She said, “We should talk.”

He just rolled his eyes and sighed.

I ask what’s wrong.

Lies fall out of his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

I get frustrated and angry.

He says something hurtful.

I say, “This isn’t right,” and start to cry.

Then he wants to talk.

And all I want to do is shut down.