I was brave today and done did get myself a sponsor.
I finished with physical therapy and as I walked outside a security guard said, “He’s not blocking you in, is he?” And I said, “yep!”
The universe gave me a pause button. What a beautiful thing.
I’m so count-y this morning. I just want it to be time to eat.
I’m certain it has nothing to do with food and everything to do with my head. But I don’t want to put in the work. This exact moment I’m tired of putting in the work.
I just needed to say that somewhere.
I feel like I should recap my day. Touch base with the multitudes of people who come across my words. (This is where you laugh. I know no one reads.)
I survived this day. Better yet, I was thriving by evening, even in spite of a nauseating headache.
I took a lot of cbd today. I dunno that it ever really did anything. I haven’t been that much of a basket case in a while.
While at the car place, Chris very patiently overlooked my psychosis. I couldn’t stop moving or rubbing my thumbs into my palms or rubbing my hands on my jeans or rubbing my fingers against my thumbtips.
Fuck. So disordered.
But after Collin assured me there were no loose parts and it might be my struts but maybe not but was definitely something with the oil but still the car wouldn’t implode, I felt better. And felt like maybe I could navigate the car til next Thursday when he’ll look at it again. Fuck, the car gives me such anxiety.
But then I drove in a bunch of snow and it was strangely empowering. But really, above all else, it just really meant everything to me that Chris practically forfeited an after work shower to be there for me and treated me regular even tho I felt anything but. I’ve missed him so much and it felt like breathing to connect.
And R was really spectacular today too. Every day she is coming into her own and navigating her way, alongside her anxiety and depression. She makes me proud.
I feel a little bit like I lost the entire day. But I didn’t lose me entirely and I’ll take the win.
I’m counting down the minutes today.
At 9:40 I decided that since I don’t feel good, eating toast is perfectly acceptable. I didn’t. At 10, I decided I’d for sure eat something early and it was okay. I didn’t. At 10:35, I decided as long as I waited til 11, it was all good. Five minutes later I decided I’d hate myself if I ate early and it would never be worth it. I’ll wait til noon because I put these things in place to keep me safe.
I don’t know why I’m so angry today. I don’t know why I’m so mad and annoyed and short. I don’t know why it’s so hard.
I’m sick of being sick. I’m sick of others ignoring what I say. I’m sick of all the nonstop, even after a weekend of relatively chill.
I feel spread so thin, but I can’t expect a three year and an issue-filled dog who sheds faster than I can keep up and a newly adopted kitten to completely fend for themselves. Neither should they have to endure my anger.
I know more lurks deeper below the surface. I just don’t know what it is.
This morning felt sad. I could have wallowed in it. Or drowned in it. But that’s not so much my style. So L and I went to Target for a gift card I needed, and while we were there I got icicle lights for the living room.
There is never enough light in here and this helps, without making it too bright. I like the feel of it, so I think I’ll get more tomorrow. After Christmas sales are cool like that.
I also packed up and organized L’s toy area. The clutter and excess is getting to me. I decluttered the top of Yoshi’s tank and put laundry away and picked up my stuff from our room.
And Chris asked the question, which opened up the opportunity for communication, which I took. And that always feels better.
Every chance I’m able, I’ll grab movement over stagnation.
Fuck. My eating disorder is fucking loud today.
I had started my day excited that it felt like a new start of healthiness and healing.
I made Brussels sprouts even!
Oh, but did my body (mind?) have other plans!
This fucking sucks.
Like, truly. And I want to turn it off. But it’s not a switch. It’s a weight. And I really just don’t have the means to push it off or shrug.
All I can do is write.
And of course it didn’t occur to me before the ice cream bar at 9am to write. Or the cake at 9:45. It was only at 10:30 when the sugar high made my head swim and I realized I should make some protein that I remembered writing is the shrug. I need the accountability. But now I still have to eat this despite not being hungry because fuck, the swimming.
But then I will sit down. And I won’t eat more. And I won’t self-medicate–I’ll only self-care. And maybe cry some because it hurts a lot, and then I will sleep. I need to oxygen mask myself today, even if just for a little while.
I’m having a moment where I’m trying to remember all our lasts. In case you don’t come back. In case the devastation of that undoes me so irrevocably that I can’t recall a single thing about today. Or yesterday.
I slept on you this morning. It was the best half hour of sleep I’ve had in months and I don’t think I ever actually slept. You kissed me and called me beautiful when I got home from my walk. I don’t want to remember that last tho…because it wasn’t you anymore.
We kissed last night. It felt like you. A glimpse of you between the drinks.
I’m trying to find the hope and the light, but it is currently too far to reach.
Your life doesn’t mean anything to you in this moment and I am now standing here, the girl who doesn’t know which story will be hers. Will I be the girl who loses you forever come morning? Will I be able to honor the me in another universe who got to keep you when I didn’t get to? Is there another me in some other universe who has already gotten the call?
I’ve never been this sick with worry and fear. They say that to keep going, you just have to put one foot in front of the other. I’m doing that, but all I can manage is pacing circles.
I never understand how my dog gets herself so bent in half.
She always falls asleep so deeply like this tho, usually right at my feet.
It’s been in the back of my mind for a couple months now that even tho I’m still wearing the same size pants (12s and 14s), that my weight has maybe gone up significantly (and maybe even irrevocably) and so I’ve been afraid to weigh myself.
Last year this time I was on a journey from the 170s to the 140s, and the thought of being back there again hurts. I had a doctor appointment last week and I knew I’d get weighed and I would navigate it when I had to. But not before. I was 157 and I wasn’t upset about it. I assumed it would be 160s and it was actually motivating to find that I wasn’t.
I haven’t had a lot of body issue issues recently. No, I don’t necessarily *want* to be this size. But also, when I look in the mirror, I don’t feel bad about myself. In fact, most of the time I look in the mirror and feel pretty average. It’s a strange thing. I know I’ve been at this size before and felt fat and ugly and unlovable and undesirable. But I don’t right now.
Sometimes I do wonder how my husband contends with having had me in my 130s compared to the 170s. Sometimes I do think “man, I felt so much sexier in my 140s, when my stomach was flatter and my ribcage was more pronounced; how on earth does he not think this is gross?” But also….so what? He doesn’t and who am I to question that? He’s had ups and downs too and it doesn’t really come into factor in a tangible way for me.
Confidence certainly factors in. He feels more confident when he’s more fit. I get that. So do I. There’s a glow that comes when you are working to achieve a thing and successfully achieving it. So, the reverse is true too. There can be a dulling when you aren’t working toward self-happiness. The dulling can be, by design, not as sexy.
But I digress.
I am simultaneously content with my body as is, because it’s mine and allows me the luxuries of being alive and living, and also I would like to be kinder to it so my body and I can have more time being alive and living.
Today I went thrift shopping for jeans because I have no pants and it’s getting cold. I found a pair I was content with. I was willing to spend the six bucks on something now that I didn’t love, but liked enough. Turns out the blue tag was 99 cents today. Score! Turns out too that once home, I really love the jeans. And I’d like to think it doesn’t matter….but it was a comfort still to know that they’re a size 12. Maybe it’s not irrevocable after all.
I keep making the not constructive choice. I mean, I realize it serves a purpose, the destructive choices–the eating choices, but they’re not constructive. They feed something in me. No pun intended. I’m just not certain they are fueling anything for my greater good.
So I came here to say that I want the muffin. And sure, I don’t want anything more now. But if I eat the muffin, I’ll want the pretzels. Or the cookies. And then after eating crap, I’ll decide I should eat something nutritious. All the while never actually wanting for food.
And I can pretend to justify “just this once”, but it is never once. Eating disorders do not work that way. And I could try to justify “if I don’t do it now, then it’ll provide momentum to saying no later”. But really, that’s bullshit too today because by the time later happens I’m going to be all out of energy to make constructive decisions.
Therefore, what I’m going to do today, and just for today because it’s 9am and already I’m almost out of decision juice (and that’s not so promising) is decide that there’s no need for decisions later. Today I’m making the decision now to just abstain. There won’t be decisions later. I made the decision now.
That also means I need to fill my basket with other things because I’m taking the food tool out. So today can be about cleaning and doing a couple things from my checklist and rest. And probably lots of writing and accountability.