Grieving ...

I was inexplicably, extremely sad this afternoon. Oftentimes I am quite depressed, but usually am able to circumvent it somehow, whether in a healthy way or not. Today, I wallowed. I crawled into my bed at four in the afternoon, cancelled my ride to the 12-step meeting I was supposed to be at, and ignored phone calls from my parents for hours. I dozed and nursed my sadness. I wasn't sure where it came from. Sometimes I just get feelings, seemingly out of the etherworld. I guess I have shoved them down so long, they don't know when it is appropriate to come up any longer.
The sadness has led me to think about grief and loss... I have a lot of that in my life. Most of it is self-inflicted. My illness has cost me greatly. I don't like to think about this. It makes me feel sick, shameful, and guilty, not to mention extremely depressed. But maybe it is necessary to feel the loss in order to change. They say that pain is the impetus to make change. So. I have lost my health, my strength, friendships, opportunities for friendships, romance, opportunities for romance, relationship with God, relationships with my family members, multiple jobs, schooling, a lot of money, living situations, stability, joy, love, emotions, the ability to cope with life normally and functionally... I am pretty sure there is more to the list. My life has become very small and narrow. I have to name each of these things, mourn them and repent of what I have done to cause their loss. And I must change, and work to move on and regain what I can, and seize the joy that is offered to me should I choose it.

Grateful?

I worry a great deal, especially lately. I worry about money. How will I make rent, pay my phone bills and utilities, buy groceries and still save up for a car? I worry about my health. Have I lost or gained weight, are my electrolytes OK, will my doctor approve of what I am doing or am I in trouble and heading to the hospital again? I worry about my eating, incessantly. Did I eat too much, too little, the wrong thing? Will I get fat? Will I look alright if I eat this? Will I feel full? I worry about my relationships. Should I call, am I being annoying or clingy, or too distant and isolative? Why am I so lonely? Does anyone like me? Will I ever have romance? Will my family and I ever be reconciled, or have I done too much damage?

So I worry a lot. My head spins, out of control, and I want to numb it out. Quickly.

Then I read in my devotional this morning (which I admit that I only read because I didn't know what else to do -- I rarely read it, which is a sad confession) that I need to go about my day trusting God and being thankful. Crap. I have been so busy worrying and numbing that I completely forgot what I do have.

So ... I am grateful.

I'm not in the hospital or treatment. I have a good care team who are watching out for me. I purged less this week. I have wonderful loving parents who practice boundaries, most of the time. I have a job, which pays the bills even if I don't love it. I have an weird and quirky and wonderful family. I have a few friends who have stuck with me through all my mess. The sun is warming up my section of the planet. I'm finally figuring out my medication. I get to take a really cool class on anthropology.... and my list will continue. There's always something to be grateful for, even amidst my worries.

Self-centered

I wonder, sometimes, if I am capable of real love. I am so selfish most of the time, so self-centered. And most of the time, I don't even realise it. I tend to think that I am the center of the world I live in, that everyone's thought's center around ME. I walk up the stairs at work in front of me and wonder if the person behind me thinks my butt is cute. I go to talk to my family and find all I talk about it my problems, my day, and it never occurs to me to think of asking, how are your problems, how was your day? Humanity makes us egocentric, and addiction even more so.

So I wonder again ... am I capable of that selfless love? That un-selfconsciousness that allows one to care about another human being? If I am I certainly haven't been practicing it. But maybe even the awareness of that is a way to start...

Mad

I'm still seething. I mean, I am angry. This is uncomfortable for me. In fact, I hate being angry, especially at someone, even more especially at someone I love. I have spent years, years, supressing my fury. It is finally coming up in a way I can recognise as anger. Prior to today, I didn't really think I was upset that much. But my whole eating disorder has a horrible vengeful quality that I couldn't face. I still don't know if I can face this. I hate being so mad! It feels crazy, it feels undeserving, unjustified. I don't have a right to feel this. Yet. Yet I feel it all the same. I'm angry .....

Deception

It's been a hard week. I started working again -- well, training for work. My days are fuller. But ED, ever creative, sneaks in at any moment I allow it. Which is many, unfortunately. It's so hard for me to eat at work, and it's hard to eat at home too. I feel self-conscious eating in front of anyone I don't know well. Are they looking at my food? Do I look too fat, too thin? Most of the time I just feel plain ugly, ugly, ugly, regardless. I feel myself rapidly slipping away into the ether of ED world, feel the clouds of lies and deception coming over me, and I stand by and watch it happen. While I know where they come from I am loathe to shake them off.

Case in point -- the word "later". As in, I'll ask for help "later". I'll eat dinner "later". I'll stop binging and purging, "later", sleep through the night "later", cook a meal "later" ... my list of "laters", "tomorrows", and "next times" is seemingly inexhaustable. It's all bullshit. I know I am deceiving myself. The bald and hideous truth is this: later doesn't happen, tomorrow never comes, and the next time is always this time.

Forgetful

Yes, I am still alive. I don't always know how, and I sometimes don't understand why, but my insane eating practices haven't killed me ... not yet. And somehow I believe I am not going to die with my head in a toilet.

I haven't posted since last June, when I was fairly new to treatment phase one million (it felt like that) in Santa Monica, CA. Since a little before Christmas, I have been back home in Fort Collins. I have a new place to live with some nice roommates, a family close by willing to help me in my moves toward life and health, I have a class at the local community college and a job slated to start the week after this one. I have friends, a loving church family ... I have a lot to live and be grateful for.

Yet. I still act out. This week has been progressively worse than the last, which was worse than the one before. I don't eat. I eat too much. I purge. I sit around feeling sad, lonely and sorry for myself, instead of reaching out to those friends and tools that I know are there. I am like the man in James who looking in the mirror knows his own face, but when he leaves the mirror forgets it entirely. I need to be constantly reminded of my tools and my support people or I forget. And habit, the habit of the eating disordered behavior, is what I fall back on. Lonely? Tired? Hungry? Anxious? Bored? Feeling something? Self-destruction is my go to answer, covered with a veneer of denial. It's got to come off. I have to face all that I'm avoiding by trying to self-destruct.