The last few weeks have been horrible in terms of recovery, or, to say it more bluntly: I’m totally going downhill. While my depression has gotten a little better over the last few weeks, everything about my eating disorder is getting worse day by day. I wish I could say something motivational and/or inspirational, but it’s simply not possible. I’m counting calories again even though I fought so hard at the beginning of last year to quit that, have been restricting them, obsess over my weight from morning to midnight and have binged and purged so hard last week that I was having horrible pains in my belly and throat (and blood in my vomit) I hadn’t had in two years prior. To sum it up: I’ve fucked up again, badly, and I hate it, but can’t stop either, because nothing makes me feel safe and in control around food and my extreme self-hatred. What I’m doing to myself is both horrible and stupid and I feel so guilty because my son shouldn’t have a mom with a mental disorder, but there is literally no other way to deal with the stuff in my head. The last few years in therapy have taught me all kinds of amazing ways to handle all of this, but nothing works right now. Nothing.
I’m not even sad or depressed- I’m just desperate, stressed, anxious and driving crazy. My reflection disgusts me. My weight terrifies me. Food stresses me. My thoughts scare me. And I don’t know what to do.
Sure, I know that I should just get back on track and eat the way normal people do, but that wouldn’t drown out the voice in my head telling me to change something about it, screaming at me how awful I am as a person. I talk to my sister and can’t stop staring at her visible collarbones, I have a normal conversation with my mom and can’t stop wondering what size her jeans are, I walk around in public and compare my body to every other one I see to find out how many people are thinner than me. And I’m scared, so, so scared, and don’t exactly know of what. It’s about being in control, but what am I trying to control and why? And why do I keep losing it? Last week was one of the worst ones in the entire last year. I binged and purged excessively on numerous occasions and lied to everyone about it because I was so ashamed of what I’d done. It all reached its crisis this Monday when I was in the middle of an extremely long and painful purge after a just as extreme binge and stopped to experience a moment of clarity that utterly shocked me as I realized what I was doing. I’d spent the previous days in some kind of trance when nobody else had been around and my sick behavior around food had automatically become my personal form of routine again without giving me a chance to actually actively understand what I was doing to myself.
But in that moment, I did realize it.
And I stopped.
I can’t live like this anymore.
I know where it will take me. I’ve been there before and almost lost everything I’d ever cared about and now that I have a son, I cannot risk it again.
Since this Monday, I’ve been feeling completely lost (even more than before), but despite the fact that I’m clearly not living healthy, I’m not actively destructing myself and that’s probably the most important thing right now. I don’t have a clue what to do because I don’t want anything more than to be thin, but don’t know how to do that with the food and my conscience and my life and health and all the other things around here on my mind. I don’t know how to handle food because I can’t starve, binge, purge or eat normal, I don’t know how to behave and what I’m allowed and prohibited to do, say and consume and I definitely don’t know what will happen next, but I’m trying to make it through every single day without falling apart.
For me and for my son. And our future.
Today he’s exactly one year old and I got his birthday tattooed (my third tattoo) and I need to keep going for us. It’s all that matters.
Will I ever make it through this?
I honestly don’t know.
But considering how lost I feel, I guess I’m still doing a quite good job at handling all of this.
I don’t think I’m doing the right thing, but at least I’m not giving up.
Somehow managing to keep yourself above water can’t be called swimming, but at least I’m not sinking, right?
Burn with me, smoke will rise
Let the flames burn higher, walk into the fire