Category Archives: Downer Day

While On Vacation

I went home to attend a wedding. While there I hung out with various friends.

The best thing said to me the entire time I was there:

while being hugged – “you’re wasting away”

The worst thing said to me the entire time I was there:

after eating dinner at a friend’s place – “wow, I’ve never seen you eat so much in my place before”

Sidenote, I ate the same amount of food as my friend in an attempt to appear normal, it wasn’t like I had a binge session at her place or something.

Guess which of the two comments has repeated itself in my head every day since it was said to me. Guess which of the two comments has fueled my restricting tendencies. Guess which of the two comments makes me want to cry, to scream, to quit this ridiculous thing called life.

Only one of those comments affected my behaviour, the way I feel and see myself, my self-esteem…and you can bet your ass it wasn’t the compliment.

 

 

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Two Days So Far

Two days in a row I have binged and then taken various pills to try to mitigate the damage. sigh.

I wish I could throw-up, I’ve tried so many times to purge that way but I can almost never seem to manage it. So instead I over exercise, and take pills that hurt my stomach but are supposed to rush the food outta me, and I take laxatives just in case the other pills don’t help, and then I restrict way more than normal for however long after that I can manage.

And oh yeah, during all this I hate myself, and isolate myself, and can’t focus on anything because I am so overwhelmed by the thoughts in my head.

I went for a long walk tonight after my first binge of the day. Partly to try to burn some calories, partly because I like to walk as it lets me think and not think all at once, partly because I enjoy listening to music while walking, and partly because it was finally dark out so I could go outside – after a binge I prefer to exercise, or do anything really, in the dark because while I am horrible to look at on a normal day, after a binge I feel especially hideous and can’t stand the thought of people looking at me. I’m judging myself enough thanks very much, I don’t need others doing it also.

I only walked 8km (5 miles). I should have walked for longer but all of a sudden, while walking, I got super tired, and my legs were feeling heavy, and I realized that I didn’t think I could finish the distance I had planned, so I cut the walk short. Lame I know. I should have pushed myself to go farther, but I caved.

Normally after a walk I don’t have any muscle pain or aches, things you get after a real workout, cause it is just a walk, but since I got back my legs ache. As if they got a real workout, but again, it was just a walk, so I don’t know what’s going on with them. My lower back is kinda sore also, but I’ve put some heat on it and I’m assuming by tomorrow it’ll be fine. Legs too, I’m assuming by tomorrow they will be fine also.

I must be getting out of shape to have such a simple thing as walking noticeably affect how my body feels. I’ve been taking part in a fitness challenge, in the last 7 days I have had 6 workouts. I guess I should up that since my body seems to be getting weaker and I’m trying to make it stronger. Well, thinner and stronger, which I am aware are goals that are at odds with each other.

It used to be something I spoke with my counsellor about but since I don’t have him anymore I guess it is just something I will speak to myself about. Or not think about at all. Ah yes, one more unsolved issue to have floating around my brain, awesome.

It has now been 2 weeks without him. I’ve stopped talking about him to anybody that knew about him because I don’t want to seem like some obsessed crazy person. I don’t know how to explain what I feel in regards to him. It isn’t like a crush, or when you break up with a boyfriend, or even when a friendship ends, but it is similar enough to some of the emotions that come up in those situations that I feel a bit like I do when I’ve been dealing with the end of a relationship.

And I’m kinda mad at him that he gave me hope. In his own odd way. When I said I was upset cause I’d never see him again an stuff he gave me this reassuring, compassionate, expression, and said I don’t know that, and I’ll have him around helping me for a while, and stuff like that. As if he is going to magically reappear in my world somehow. But he isn’t. And I have to acknowledge and deal with that. He isn’t going to reappear at my program and be my one-on-one counsellor again. He isn’t going to pop up somewhere else in my world and become a friend. He’s just a person that I spoke with for a short time that I’ll never see again. And that is messing with me. Usually people you tell private, important stuff to, are people you will see again, people you can contact, people you know. But now, I’ll never see him again, he’s probably already forgotten I exist, I’m spiraling from losing him as part of my support team, and I’m never gonna know what happens to him. Does he get a great job? Does he do amazing things? Does he have a happy life? I dunno. And I never will know, because it isn’t my place to know that about him, but I had this false sense of friendship because of our talks together and I feel a loss that I will never know those things about him.

I sometimes make up stupid scenarios in my head about running in to him. At one of my sports team’s competitions, or just when I’m out doing something. He told me in our last session that if he ever sees me, due to ethical stuff, the most he is allowed to do is nod, he can’t come say hi, I would have to initiate contact. And we can never be friends, unless, maybe I am better from what he used to counsel me about, and he sorta stretched the ethical rules. So even if I did run in to him, and say hi, it would never go beyond that superficial quick convo before we both went on our way.

I don’t want you to think I’m wanting to date him or something, I don’t, that isn’t what this is about. It’s just, I think he is someone who would be cool to have as a friend, not for the counselling stuff, but because he’s funny, and in to fitness, and has a relateable way about him. And I think that if somehow we had met in real life, not in a counselling session, maybe we could have been friends. I mean sure, I know we never would have met, our lives don’t cross paths anywhere and even if they did he’d never glance my way, but it is just this feeling I have.

It’s stupid. I know it is stupid. But it is how I feel.

I think all these feelings floating in me, about this, are manifesting in binges, and restricting, and self-harming, and other not healthy coping skills. I also have sunk in to a “don’t care” mentality and skipped meal support today. I also would have skipped drop-in but I got convinced to go by a friend. I feel like, without him there helping me, I can’t do this on my own, so why try. Why put in the effort when all I’m going to do is fail? Seems like a waste of time to me.

I miss him. I miss our sessions together. But I’m not supposed to miss him, so this is just one more thing I am alone in dealing with. And the person who would normally help me deal is him, but obviously he can’t help with this, and I don’t know how to deal with this, so I’m engaging in damaging behaviours and I don’t really care about the hurt I am doing to my body because really, what does it matter?

Too Much

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I think I’m having a panic attack. Except I don’t actually have panic attacks. Or maybe I do and I just don’t acknowledge them as such?

Ugh. Who cares what this is!!

Let’s go with, I am FREAKING OUT! And almost cried. And had a massive internal battle. And am still freaking out even though the damage is done. And I kinda still want to cry, or run away, or have someone say it will be ok, except there is nobody because I don’t have a freakin one-on-one counsellor anymore so I have no one to talk to. And I think I’m having a mental breakdown and oh my god someone get me out of my head.

Ok, lemme try to explain what is going on…

I started a fitness challenge yesterday, 44 workouts in 44 days. Nothing too crazy or extreme, just something to help me get back on track. I wasn’t initially going to add a food component to the challenge buuuuut I want results and results are 90% what happens in the kitchen and 10% what happens with your workouts so I can’t exactly ignore the food side of things completely, right?

I figured I’d track my calories, write the number on the day beside what my workout was, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. Easy peasy.

So not turning out to be easy.

I mean tracking is easy. But my response to the numbers hasn’t been easy to deal with. sigh.

Now, don’t get all judgy on me with this, but I don’t care to eat over 800 calories a day. 800 used to be my max, I preferred to be in the low 700’s. If I consistently ate in the 600’s or lower I’d have trouble functioning at work, but the low 700’s seemed to be a good spot for me.

While in this recovery program I am not supposed to track my calories *rolls eyes* For the most part I haven’t. I did have a day where I tracked because I didn’t know if I was still under eating or not since I didn’t know the numbers for how much I was eating but I knew I was eating more than I used to…wow, that is a convoluted sentence. When I tracked that day I was in the 700’s so I was ok with things.

Something I worked on with my one-on-one counsellor is pre and post workout food. According to him I have to fuel my body properly to get the results I want from my workouts, and to keep strong for my sport, and to heal quickly from my workouts so I can get back out there sooner. I don’t care for this logic but I trusted him so I started making sure I ate something about an hour to an hour and a half before working out and that I ate something after my workout.

By ate “something” I don’t mean just anything. It is always a carefully chosen, high protein, low carb, low fat, snack or meal.

Even though he is gone the idea has stuck in my head and I am still making something to eat post workout. I’m not quite as good with the pre workout but I’m trying…kinda…

After my workout tonight I came home and made a protein smoothie bowl, it is basically protein powder, a small banana, frozen mixed fruit, and a small amount of plain almond milk, all blended to a consistency that requires a spoon to eat it. It is kind of my go-to for a post workout meal.

My freakout is because I was sitting at a lovely 700 calories eaten prior to that smoothie bowl. Once I tracked that smoothie bowl I was at 1007 calories.

One thousand and seven calories.

ONE THOUSAND AND SEVEN CALORIES!!

1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!1007!

That number won’t stop flashing in my head.

Over a thousand calories. In one day. Oh. My. Fucking. God.

What have I done??

When I tracked the ingredients for the smoothie bowl I had the protein powder and the banana in the blender. I could have dumped them before blending anything. I saw that number before I had eaten the smoothie bowl, I could have done something to stop myself from eating enough calories to put me over 1000.

I could have stopped myself. I should have stopped myself. I am a failure for not stopping myself.

Whyyyyy didn’t I stop myself?

When I saw that number, as I stood at the counter with ingredients in my hand, I froze, just stared at the contents of the blender and wanted to cry. My breathing became more shallow, and faster, I wanted to throw the entire thing against a wall, get rid of it, not see it anymore. I wanted to go back to the gym for an additional workout. I wanted to scream, cry, hide, fight. I wanted to do a lot of things. All I actually did was stand there, shaking, upset, lost, not sure what to do, not sure what the right decision was, and so I chose to trust in what my counsellor had said. Trust that needing a post workout snack is more important than keeping myself in the 700’s. Trust that eating that smoothie bowl, and as a result eating 1007 calories for the day, wasn’t throwing away all the work I did in the gym. Wasn’t taking away from the results I want to get. Wasn’t going to make me wake up fatter tomorrow.

I don’t believe any of it. I think he will be wrong, and I will get fatter, and I won’t get the results I want in the gym, and I made the wrong choice, and I am stupid for making and eating the smoothie bowl, and I am failing, and making bad choices, and I deserve all the bad things that will happen to me because obviously I have no self control and don’t deserve anything good. My will power is gone, obviously. My self control non existent. My worthiness never existed.

Why did I let myself eat so much today? What was I thinking? I feel so glutenous. I never once thought I’d eat over a thousand calories in a day unless it was due to a binge. How could I let myself eat so much when it wasn’t a binge? What if this happens again? What if this is the beginning of me losing total control and sliding in to a land of over eating every day? What if this is the first day of the journey to being super fat? I can’t. I can’t let that happen. This can not happen again.

CAN NOT HAPPEN AGAIN!

I think I’m going to cry, and I am NOT a crier. But I’m so alone. I don’t have anyone to talk to in person about this who will help me figure out what I am doing, or why this happened, or what to do in the future. The only thing I know to do is go backwards. Revert back to how I was. I know I can do that. I don’t know if that is the answer though. But if that isn’t the answer than what is? I don’t know how to handle having eaten so much in one day. It isn’t like having to handle having eaten a crap ton of food in a binge and dealing with the physical and mental and emotional pain of that. There is no pain, physically at least. I’m not having side effects from what I ate. I just ate too much.

I don’t know how to mentally and emotionally cope with having eaten 1007 calories in a day. I’m so ashamed I ate that much. I feel like I am going to be judged for having eaten so much. I’m going to go hide now.

 

5 Years

I had a whole other post planned but when I logged in and checked my notifications I saw a thing from WordPress congratulating me on starting this blog 5 years ago.

5 years.

Five fucking years.

I know I have had an eating disorder for way longer than that, and hell, 5 years ago when I started this blog I wasn’t even willing to admit that I had one, the closest I would say was I have issues with food, so I guess progress has been made.

But seeing that congratulatory message about having this blog for 5 years somehow really brought to my awareness that I have had this for a long fucking time and that really sucks.

Seeing that number makes me incredibly sad, and distraught. My heart started pounding, I felt dread, and fear (I think it was fear), my breathing got more shallow, my temperature spiked. There were some massive physical reactions to seeing that number. There was also definite panic.

Why was there panic? That I don’t understand.

My thoughts are scattered, and I’m aware that I’m doing things I do when I’m freaking out or about to freak out. My eyes keep scanning the room, avoiding looking at my monitor, I have a strong urge to get up and run, or do something physical, maybe punch something. I want to hide from the information, or at least get far away from it.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know why I need to do anything. Why I feel the need to do anything.

I just know that I went from feeling tired but wanting to write a quick post about something from today to panicked and needing to escape.

Like there is any actual escape from what is inside my own head? *rolls eyes*

MIA

My boobs are shrinking.

Apologies, that wasn’t a very grown-up way of writing that, let’s try again…

My breasts appear to be shrinking. Again. At this rate they will disappear altogether!

Why oh why can’t the fat from oh I don’t know, my stomach, or back, or thighs, or ass, go first? Whyyyyy the boobs?

Its just not fair I tell ya!

I’ve been working out more, and my workouts focus mostly on cardio, back, shoulders, and arms. As a result I have decent definition in my arms and shoulders. My back needs work, lots of work, and my cardio endurance is slowly getting better. However, none of that working out is translating into a slimmer, better looking me.

My chest is bonier, which wasn’t planned but I’m fine with, but my boobs are disappearing, which I’m not all that ok with to be honest. I mean, if you tell me to get them back I have to start eating again then I’ll just deal with them being smaller, but it would be nice if all that work on my pecs translated in to perkier boobs, not disappearing ones. *rolls eyes*

When I was getting dressed for work today I swear I saw myself get fatter in the mirror as I was seeing if my outfit was ok.

I wish I was exaggerating with that but I swear, as I took a look at my body from the side I’m positive my abdominal and ass area got thicker.

Is that even possible? I don’t think it is, except I experienced it…I had already changed my outfit three times and didn’t have time to change again so I had to go to work in what I was wearing and I felt ginormous. Like the fattest of all the fat people. And yet two people complimented how I looked and my figure. Don’t they see how disgusting and fat I am? How I still have so much work to do to look even halfway decent? How I am obviously a person with no willpower who eats too much?

I hate what I look like. I hate how I feel in my own body. I hate this. This fucked up, can’t even tell what I look like in an outfit, way of being.

I hate that I am so mad and upset about other things and the only way I know how to express my level of upset is by taking it out on my own body.

I’ve started taking my diet pills and supplements again, I just bought some new ones cause why the fuck not? I’ve been restricting, and not my regular levels of under eating but actual restricting. I’ve been scalding myself but have so far managed to not outright burn myself. I’ve been taking part in activities that cause me body pain and low levels of harm because again, why not? I’ve already decided to pull out of a couple different social functions that I said I’d go to and not say yes to anything new that pops up, because who needs people? And to pull back from my recovery program, because why have a support system?

In all ways I can fuck with myself I am, and while part of me doesn’t really care, part of me is reveling in the pain and harm I am bringing upon myself, because I deserve it. I deserve the pain, the depression, the total and complete belief that I am alone and unworthy of anything else.

Self-destruction is my only way of dealing with things, and it is something I do well. I guess my boobs are just the first casualty of this newest battle.

Being An Island

I’ve always prided myself in my being an emotional island. Sure I rely on other people for things at times, it is the nature of society, we all do. You don’t see me out there farming or refining oil so I can have food or gas for my car do you? But in a lot of ways I have kept myself apart.

 

I give the illusion of being connected to people, and places, and groups, but in reality none of those people know me all that well, they just don’t realize it because I am the funny one, the one that keeps others entertained, the low maintenance one that I am sure is completely forgotten once I am not in the room.

My keeping myself apart is a learned behaviour, one that is so ingrained I don’t know any other way of being. There have been times over the years where I let someone in a little bit, and it always comes back to bite me on the ass, reminding me why I don’t get close to people in the first place.

Well, looks like I needed to relearn that lesson, sigh.

I already wrote about how my counsellor leaving has messed me up, it would seem the fallout from him leaving is wider spread than even I would have predicted.

Having to come to terms with his leaving has made me realize how much I have come to rely on him and our sessions. He is the only human being on the entire planet I have ever spoken to about deep shit, and our sessions together were a touchstone for me each week. I knew if something really fucked up happened I could speak to him about it when I saw him. I knew if I was depressed, confused, mad, whatever, I could talk to him about it. And somehow, along the way, while having someone to talk to still confused me, I also came to rely on it and look forward to it.

What a stupid, idiotic, fucked up, move that was.

I am so mad at myself for forgetting all the hard learned lessons that taught me relying or counting on someone is a bad bad bad idea.

So now, here I am, going through this freakin emotional upset (which is so foreign to me I don’t even know where to start with processing it) when I know better and should never have let myself get this attached.

While ruminating on all this I realized that to a lesser extent I am relying on the groups I attend through my recovery program. The weekly drop-in, the meal support, I rely on them as other touchstones for my week, places I can go and be around other people with similar problems. Sometimes I get support from those groups, sometimes they leave me angry, or sad, or not feeling anything at all, regardless of how they leave me feeling I keep going back. I think I rely on the structure of them, to some degree I rely on the people running them, and the others that attend the groups.

I seem to have turned in to one big soft suck who relies on all sorts of people and groups to function during the week.

And that shit has to stop. Now.

With my counsellor leaving I am feeling lost, alone, like I can’t deal with this shit on my own and I’m gonna flounder as soon as our last session ends. So how much worse will it be when I time out of the program? When all of a sudden all the groups, and support, and structure is out of my life?

If I can’t deal with losing one person, I’m royally fucked when I lose them all.

That isn’t acceptable.

So I’m pulling back. I’m pulling back and creating distance because it is better for me to do it, better for me to be the strong one who backs away and maintains some level of self-respect, than for them to all leave first and me feel lost, and sad, and unable to cope. I need to be able to be on my own again when this program is done. I need to be able to handle shit, and move on, and how am I supposed to believe in my own ability to take care of things on my own if I am busy wallowing in depression because I am now on my own?

So I’m stepping back. Distancing myself emotionally from the whole thing. Putting the walls back up.

It is safer, and smarter, and better to do this before I’m even done in the program so its not a big deal when I leave.

What sucks is, I hadn’t realized how much I was relying on the program, and now that I’m stepping back emotionally I worry that what if I have become so weak from relying on it that I can’t handle shit on my own anymore? And why does going back behind my wall make me feel almost desperate, like someone who had a brief taste of freedom and is now being put back in a cell?

I never felt trapped by how I was before, I felt strong for being able to be apart from others. But sometimes I feel sad about going back to how I was, even though it is the smarter choice. I’m not sure why I feel this way, but I’m sure it’ll go away over time.

 

Changes

I’m not great at dealing with changes that aren’t my decision. Which, really, covers a lot of changes.

Usually I can bring myself around to being ok with the changes given enough time, how much time is needed is really dependent on what the change is and how off guard it caught me.

Something else I’m not good at dealing with is people going away. I guess you could say I have abandonment issues. *rolls eyes* I’m usually pretty good at pulling away and cutting ties first, before the other person can, and that has always worked for me. Every now and then the other person manages to leave first and it reinforces to me how I have to be more diligent and make sure I am the strong one who is leaving, not the weak one who is left behind.

But there are two people, one who left but is coming back, and one who is leaving soon, that are part of my treatment team, and the changes are really fucking with me.

My case worker disappeared ages ago. So long ago I don’t even remember for sure when she left! It sort of didn’t matter, since I was seeing someone else one-on-one, and already set up for my next group. I really only see her at the end of an 8 week group where she and I have a debrief and she tells me what group I go in to next, or I guess I could reach out to her in distress or with a question but I never have. She was co-running the group I am in now so her leaving meant someone else came in, but it is someone I know and am used to so I didn’t mind that she was there. What I did mind was that a different doctor, let’s use the initial M for her, was all of a sudden everywhere. She was co-running the drop-in instead of my case worker, she was co-running my core group, she randomly phoned me one week to talk about the core group, she had someone else come speak to me after drop-in because of something I had written on a check-in form we fill out at the end of our weekly group session. Seriously, I can’t get away from M if I try, and it was like she was taking the place of my case worker, and I don’t like that.

I don’t like that she left. I don’t like that some other person seemed to just step right in and take over all her stuff. I don’t like that nobody tells us anything so I have no idea if or when she is coming back. She could be dead for all I know.

Then this past week I find out she is coming back in the next week or so…and it seems I don’t know how I feel about that. She just left, out of nowhere. And now she is just allowed to waltz back in and resume where she left off? Does this mean she is still my caseworker? She doesn’t even know what I’ve been doing these past months while she’s been away. I don’t know if I want to deal with her again because I have trust issues and it took a lot for me to tell her anything and trust her to what extent I had been able, and then she left, and now what, she’s back so I’m just supposed to automatically trust her again? Or still?

I dunno. It’s weird to me.

The other person, let’s call him B, is the counsellor I see for one-on-one sessions. He is technically a student, doing his practicum work, and he is done in three weeks. This is even more stupid, because I knew all along he’d be gone somewhere around April, I knew he wasn’t a permanent part of my treatment team, but he has also been the most helpful person to me, the most supportive person in my journey, my time with him has had more impact on my recovery than any of the other groups combined. Which is kind of funny considering I signed up to meet with him thinking I’d meet with him once, not like it, and back out but feel ok about it because at least I tried. But it turned out I didn’t mind talking to him, and in fact, my sessions with him have become a huge touchstone in my week and I will be lost without them.

I know he is leaving. I have always known he was going to leave. I didn’t think I’d get attached to him, but I did. And I don’t know what I am going to do once our one-on-ones are over. I know he isn’t a friend, he is my counsellor, but he is the only person I speak with, who doesn’t have an eating disorder, who knows I have an eating disorder, who I can talk openly with about whatever I want. I can tell him flat out I need help figuring out if something I am thinking is messed up or normal. I have had him pry information out of me on days I am shut down and not able to access my emotions. He has seen me confused, sad, pissed off, and I know that is his job, I know him being there and helping me through shit is because it is his career, not because we are friends hanging out, but I feel like I am going to miss having him around the way I miss having a friend around. There will be a noticeable absence in my life, my routine, and in this case, my mental health support system.

I don’t want him to go, even as I want him to graduate and go do awesome things.

I don’t deal well when I lose people. If they come back it takes me even longer to trust them again. When they leave it affects me not just on the surface, but right down to my core beliefs, because their leaving reinforces all the negative shit I feel about myself, all the negative outlooks I have on life, society, everything.

I know it is messed up. I know that I knew the whole time he would be leaving. I stupidly let myself get used to having him around and I actually started relying on him, and now I don’t know what to do. How am I going to cope? If it was anybody else leaving I’d be talking to him about how to cope but I can’t very well go to him about this. I can already feel myself shutting down as a defence, to help stop or block the hurt I know I will feel when he is really gone. I am getting moodier, more depressed, not laughing or talking as much, withdrawing from everything, getting more aggressive, more sarcastic, binge eating more, then restricting more. All sorts of things that are manifestations of how unhappy I am are popping up and I don’t really give a fuck.

I’m becoming more anti-social? Who cares, it is how I am normally anyways. This whole making friends thing was an anomaly that wasn’t going to last anyways.

I’m talking less? Participating less? So what, I don’t need people to talk to, or groups to participate in. I’m fine on my own, always have been, always will be.

I’m relying less on my support system? I should be. Support systems are for losers, for wimps, for cowards, who can’t face the world alone. I am alone, I am strong enough to take care of myself because I am the only one who will.

Deep down I’m confused and sad? Screw that. Bury those emotions, squash em down until you don’t feel them anymore, they are a waste of energy and make me weak.

I hate this. I hate that I used to not be aware of shit like this, I just was how I was, and now I am more aware but still completely incapable of handling the overload of emotions. So now I am overloaded on top of all the shit I am feeling, and vaguely aware that my coping mechanisms are not helpful to my recovery or to living a normal life, but again, don’t know how to not engage in them. So I’m aware that I’m sliding, but not equipped with enough skills to stop the slide.

This fucking sucks.

 

No one is watching me slide below street level

Barely alive