Category Archives: Downer Day

The Brink of Tears

I’m fairly certain that eating two eggs (scrambled) on a hoagie bun is not an activity that is supposed to make a person almost cry.

And yet…

I feel like it has been almost an entire week of failure. I had my massive binge last Sunday, then days of physical recovery from that, then I ate half a pack of cookies a different day, then I ate some cookies and ice cream last night, then today I ate food after coming home from work.

In my world these are all massive failures, and having them all happen in one week, one right after another, is messing with my head.

I’ve got to get a handle on things over here or I’m going to end up back in the land of binges multiple times a week and I can’t handle that. I just…I just can’t.

Normally I don’t eat when I get home from work, when I work an evening shift I don’t get home until around ten at night. Once I am home I shower, do random things, make some tea, and by the time I might even be slightly thinking of food I’ve decided it is too late and I’m not going to bother. Doesn’t matter if I feel hungry or not, I don’t eat. I used to, and I found that was one of my most likely times to binge, so I cut that shit out. My body got used to the not eating after work thing and I stopped feeling hungry when I got home, something I count as a win!

But this past week I have really fucked things up. All those random extra high calorie foods has got my body thinking it wants more food and it has the nerve to send me hunger signals. Signals I am scared I might not be able to resist.

You might be thinking whats the big deal, if you feel hungry than eat. But I’m scared that I will eat things like ice cream, or other high calorie disastrous foods that I don’t let myself eat and that whatever I do eat I will eat in large quantities because heaven forbid I know and follow things like proper portion sizes.

Those, fyi, are totally valid fears.

So tonight I was in my post-work shower and couldn’t figure out what I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling hungry or if I was feeling like I wanted to eat but for reasons other than hunger. Maybe I thought I wanted to eat but I was actually just bored, or thirsty, or upset about something…I should be careful because no point in eating if I am not actually hungry but being tricked into feeling hunger, right?

I knew that my brain kept thinking about ice cream so I promised myself that if I was going to eat it would be an egg, maybe an egg on toast (which is how I usually eat an egg), but at least the egg. It has protein. It is healthy. I am allowed one a day and I haven’t had an egg in a while. Plus, if I was legit hungry than an egg is an ok option for taking care of that hunger. If I am not actually hungry well, an egg won’t cause too much damage, least not as much as say, ice cream.

I ended up scrambling two eggs and putting them on a toasted hoagie bun. I don’t know what came over me. All those carbs. TWO eggs in one day. Ugh. Broke sooooo many rules with that meal, and yet, I ate it.

After I ate it and there was no turning back from what I did I sat there, watching a movie but hardly paying any attention to it, and I wanted to cry. I kept thinking about how last week I would never have even considered eating something once I was home from work, even if I had felt hungry I wouldn’t have eaten something, and today I caved because I thought I might be hungry. And not only did I cave I ate something that isn’t a safe meal (though I suppose it is a variation on one) and I ate a way larger portion than normal. This is on top of eating dinner at work aaaaaaaaand some oatmeal before going to work.

That is three freakin meals in one day. THREE!

Now do you see why I wanted to cry?

I feel like a failure. I have let myself down. I am so depressed and I don’t see the point anymore.

I look in the mirror and all I see is a fat, disgusting, woman. I have rolls of fat. My stomach sticks out so far it is heinous. Every part of me is swollen, and pudgy, and gross. I swear it wasn’t this bad last week. That binge started me on a free for all that has resulted in me looking noticeably fatter already. How is that possible? Why does it take so much hard work, so much dedication, so much sacrifice, to lose even one pound, but I can gain so much of that lost weight back in one stupid week.

The scale, urg, the scale. I didn’t step on it today but I stepped on it yesterday and it showed I was the same, but it has to be lying because I can see what I look like and I am definitely noticeably fatter. ­čśŽ

So I sat there, post egg on a hoagie bun, realizing that I have just pushed myself farther away from my goal by caving and eating. ┬áRealizing that I was already noticeably fatter when I went to work today and now that I came home and ate some more food I am going to be even fatter tomorrow. Realizing that tomorrow I will step on the scale and will hate myself. Realizing that I am a failure. Realizing that I had gone so long without a binge, then I had one last Sunday and I am still dealing with the fallout from that binge. Realizing that what is the point of recovery when I’m still binge eating after all this time. Realizing that recovery may not be for everybody. Realizing I am freakin exhausted and I wish it was like it was before I realized I had a problem because I may have been engaging in just as many (or even more) bad for me behaviours but at least I was oblivious to just how much I was fucking up and could pretend what I did was normal.

This sucks. And I still want to cry. But I don’t do stuff like that so instead I’ll go try to sleep, at least when I am unconscious I am not aware of how much I hate myself.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Not A Good Sign

I think I am failing at recovery. Not intentionally, but regardless of if it is on purpose or not, I think I am failing.

Fuck.

Today I felt like I spent the whole day at my recovery program’s offices. First I had a meeting with my nutritionist. Then I had Meal Support group. Then I had book club…which I was deluded into thinking would be fun because I like to read but is still somehow turned in to a freakin therapy session! *rolls eyes*

So yeah, ok, my meeting with my nutritionist had some unsettling sentences being said, by her, which makes me think I need to be less honest about how things are with me cause, um, yeah, not good.

She said she is going to talk with my case worker about me and some things I have said and about potentially a new approach. I feel like I am in trouble and being tattled on. ­čśŽ

She also said perhaps I need more support than what I am getting now in getting out of my eating habits and adopting new ones and I should consider inpatient treatment at the hospital.

What the fuck?

First off, I am not under weight, sure I am losing but I am nowhere near under weight so no fucken way do I need inpatient. Second, I have a life, a job, a cat, rent to pay, shit to do, not like I can magically disappear from the world and go inpatient. Thirdly, no. Just no. I hate doctors. I hate medical stuff. It is bad enough when I have to go get blood work done, or have some other reason where I need to see a doctor, but going and being in a hospital 24/7? Nuh-uh. Not happenin.

So yeah, not the most pleasant of convos.

She goes on vacation for three weeks so our plan (I say “our” but it is actually hers) is that while she is gone I will focus on breakfast. Usually I put off eating as long as possible when I wake up but now I am supposed to eat within 1.5 hours of waking up, and it is supposed to be a healthy balanced all the food groups kind of meal. *rolls eyes* Then, when she returns she is going to put me on a meal plan. It will apparently be tailored to my height, weight, age, etc. She won’t tell me how many calories it will be. She also says I am not to track or tally the calories myself. I am supposed to blindly believe what she gives me will be ok. Cuz ya know, blind leaps of faith are things I am oh so good at.

After meeting with her I had Meal Support, which is also led by her. You sit, with others, and eat a meal that has all the food groups. You are supposed to eat the food within 20-30 minutes and after eating everyone plays a game to keep us distracted. I am the slowest eater ever, and couldn’t finish in time. I started to put my sliced apple away because everyone else was done and I didn’t want to hold up the start of the game playing but I got called out on that and was told I had to keep eating the apple while we all played the game. In one sitting I ate a strawberry greek yoghurt, an apple, and half a wrap with 1/4 of a chicken breast, spinach, carrots, cabbage, and bbq sauce in it. That is a LOT of food. Way more than I usually eat in one sitting. When I was done I thought I was ok, the game had kept me distracted from noticing how full I felt, I didn’t have a breakdown or anything, all was ok. Then I left to go buy a tea before my next group and as soon as I wasn’t distracted all I could notice was how full my stomach felt. It was so incredibly unpleasant. Ugh. I think if I do that group again I’ll go for a walk (or a jog) instead of going to buy tea, help get rid of that feeling.

I guess that group wasn’t a complete fail since I managed to eat all that food, even if it did take me longer than the time limit. But it was probably a fail in that I didn’t eat again for a really long time, and when I did eat it was something small and not calorie dense because I felt I had to make up for eating all that food earlier…

Then book club. We are reading Daring Greatly by Brene Brown and I’m not really liking it. I am not a self-help book reader by any means, and this one is so, just, ugh. I don’t have words for it. I don’t connect with this book at all! In book club we talk about the chapters we were assigned to read that week, what if any connection we felt with what we had read etc, then we get a 5 minute break before we do some sort of project. This weeks project we were given a large piece of paper and told to draw a shape on it that symbolizes vulnerability to us. Then we went through a bunch of magazines to find pictures, or words, or whatever, of things that make us feel vulnerable and we had to put them inside the shape we drew. Then we had to find pictures, or words, or whatever, of things that allow us to be vulnerable and put those outside the shape. Then we had to describe the whole thing to the group. You may be laughing but you go try it, it’s harder than you think! Normally I really struggle with things like this but this week I managed to create something that seemed to impress the two people running the group. I think it was because I needed the distraction from how my stomach was feeling and the knowledge I ate all that food and the activity helped with that.

So yeah, that was my day in recovery and I think overall I didn’t do all that well. I got told inpatient might be the way to go and am being tattled on to my case worker. I ate a shit tonne of food. I didn’t handle eating all that food properly. Then I used the project in book club to distract myself from how I was feeling.

This recovery thing sure can suck, sigh.

too fat

Keeping Space

I think of myself as someone who is fairly self-sufficient. I don’t cry on my friend’s shoulders, I don’t go running to a family member when things are hard, I don’t lean on anyone other than myself when I am struggling. Personally, I think this is best. I think if you can’t handle things on your own than you are weak and should toughen up. It’s fine to talk a situation over with someone once you’ve dealt with it and can talk rationally and reasonably, but when in the throes of something big and emotional and messy, well, to me, alone is best.

Which makes the realization that I have come to depend on and even slightly look forward to my weekly group sessions a daunting one.

My recovery program is mostly group based sessions. They run on 8 week cycles. So for 8 weeks you are in a session about say, Building Self Compassion (that was my most recent one). You have once a week group meetings and you are limited to how many you are allowed to miss. On top of that weekly session there are three drop-in sessions you can pick from (meal support, meditation, weekly support). You don’t have to go to those drop-ins but you can, and they say the more you go to the better you do in your recovery. When the 8 week session is done you have a month or so where you only go to the drop-ins, and you are required to attend at least 2 in the month. Then a new 8 week session starts. This just keeps repeating.

So, every week, no matter where you are in the program, you should be attending at least one of the group sessions. At first I found this annoying, time consuming, even pointless. After a while I found it stressful, highly awkward for my schedule, and still pointless. Then at some point, some of the stuff I was being told started to sink in and I realized maybe it isn’t as pointless as I thought. I still found it occasionally annoying, and stressful, and it is legit time consuming and really messes with my schedule, but I try to look at it as one of those things that is important and therefore worthy of any interruptions it makes to my life.

I also sorta think of it as my punishment. If I wasn’t so fucked up I wouldn’t be having to deal with all this and I could be out enjoying life uninterrupted like my friends are.

My work shift was swapped for today so I had to miss the drop-in group support that is held on Mondays. My 8 week session just ended so I’ve just started the drop-ins which means I have no mandatory weekly group session this week. I don’t attend the other sessions, the meditation and food support groups, for reasons I won’t go in to here, which means until next week I won’t see anyone. Except I won’t see anyone next week either because the Monday is a stat holiday so they will be closed. So it’ll be three weeks before I see anyone and that is kinda freaking me out.

Before I’m pretty sure I would have looked at this as a boon, a freak scheduling mishap that brought about some alone time from the doctors and group sessions and delving in to why I think and feel things. But this week I actually tried to get my shift covered and was going to call in sick all so I could go to group this evening.

I’m kinda struggling and I need support and I wanted to go to group to get some support, to not feel so alone, but I couldn’t go and now I feel even more alone than before, and scared because I don’t know what I might do over the next two weeks, and confused because multiple things have happened over the past week I wanted to talk to someone about and now I won’t ever get to talk about those situations and I need advice on some stuff and need to know just how bad I screwed up when dealing with things but well, now I’ll never know because not like I can bring it up 2 weeks from now, it’ll all be old news.

I haven’t changed a lot of my ED behaviour, in fact, someone looking from the outside might say I have changed nothing. I am still eating my safe foods to the almost exclusion of everything else. I am still under eating daily, unless I have a binge day. I am still working out harder than I should. I am still feeling guilt and shame when I eat. But my thoughts have changed a little bit, honest! I sometimes think about eating other foods, I might not do it yet but before I wouldn’t have even thought it. I have eaten when normally I wouldn’t have because I felt hunger or because I realized it had been a long time since I had eaten so I probably should eat. Before I would have decided to keep fasting because why not? I’ve started drinking more water so I’m not always dehydrated. I may not eat the amount of food I am supposed to but I am eating more than I used to, well ok, not every day, but some days, and for me that is a big deal. And something huge for me, I gained a pound over the weekend and I didn’t go in to full blown panic and fast starting last night and continuing on until at least the end of day tomorrow. In fact, today I drank a ton of water, I ate two meals, and I had a snack! I’m working on not feeling guilty about all that food, not quite there yet but hey, I’m a work in progress.

My worry though, is I have things that happened that raised questions, questions I need answers to, and I have no one to answer them. I feel like without those answers I can’t properly move forward because what if I am doing something wrong, what if I made the wrong choice and continue to make wrong choices from here on out, what if I am fucking this up.

I don’t even know what the “what” I might be fucking up is. Is it my weight loss, my recovery, my eating disorder…I just don’t know…

I think I could schedule a one-on-one with my case manager but I don’t know for sure, and even if I could she has limited time and people with bigger problems than mine to deal with so I don’t want to bother her. Maybe I could email her…that’s something to look in to…

This post did not end up where I intended it to go lol What I was planning on writing was why the enforced separation from my group sessions might actually be a good thing for me because I have obviously become too reliant on them when dealing with stuff. I won’t be in this program forever, eventually I won’t have access to these people and groups, and I need to keep that in mind. I need to remember when I am low or struggling that in the end the one I should depend on is me, not the counselors or doctors or others in group because one day I’ll be out of the program and on my own anyways and it is important to be strong so I don’t have trouble with that transition.

Right now I am wavering with that thought though, as you might have guessed lol I think, given two weeks away from all the groups that thought will become stronger and I’ll end up taking a couple steps back recovery wise which would suck since the steps forward I have taken are so small and so few. But if I do contact my case manager what am I supposed to say? I think I’m becoming a wimp who needs someone to talk to, will you be that person for me this week? That is so not ever gonna happen.

bored

Permission

Last night, around 7pm, I realized I hadn’t eaten for 8 hours. Now, 8 hours is nothing, I have gone upwards of 48 hours with nothing but tea and diet coke, but at the 8 hour mark I started to feel hungry.

I knew I could resist it, fight it, not give in to it, and eventually the feeling would pass. I was really tempted to do all of that. I had a weigh-in the next day and if I didn’t eat that evening then by my weigh-in time I would have gone without anything solid in my stomach for a little over 24 hours. Add in some planned dehydration and it would be a great weigh-in!

But then this niggling thought entered my head, telling me normal people would eat something. Not just a small bite of something, but a meal. Normal people eat more frequently than every 8 hours or longer. According to the nutritionist I see, they eat every 3 to 4 hours…something I find ridiculous but whatever, shrug.

So I sat, and I wondered if I should eat, and I really couldn’t figure it out. I would think “yes, I should eat something” and then I would sit there paralyzed by a bombardment of thoughts…

  • what should I eat?
  • what quantity of food should I eat?
  • I ate 8 hours ago, do I really need to eat again so soon?
  • what kind of food prep am I going to have to do?
  • I’m tired, do I really have the energy to cook, maybe I should go to bed instead

I sat, curled up in a ball, staring at the kitchen for almost an hour, not knowing what to do. Even when I would decide I was going to eat I just kept sitting there, scared. I felt like I needed someone to tell me it was ok to eat, but who is going to tell me that? The only one I live with is the cat, he certainly isn’t going to tell me anything. I have no one I can reach out to about this, and even if I did, what would I say? “Oh hey, can you please give me permission to eat because I can’t give it to myself” They’d think I was a lunatic.

Eventually I went in to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror, trying to tell myself it was ok to eat. When I wasn’t able to do that I tried telling myself why I should eat, that didn’t work either. I don’t have any catch-phrases to tell myself, little inspirational quotes to get me believing I should eat. Hell, I couldn’t even come up with a plausible lie to convince myself to eat.

I ended up telling myself “you need to eat because…well, just because” and left it at that. I made a deal with myself, I could listen to music and dance while cooking, as long as I cooked and ate something. I couldn’t dive right in to it so I cleaned for a little bit and after a while started prepping my veggies.

I made roasted sweet potato and beets. I keep trying to roast root vegetables and they never turn out as good as they should, sigh. These turned out edible, but not amazing. I paired them with two little sausages so I would have some protein in there. I’m supposed to eat something from all four food groups every time I ate but I can’t quite seem to manage that yet.

That sweet potato had been sitting on my counter for 2 weeks! I bought it with the intention of eating it but couldn’t bring myself to cook and eat it. Too dangerous. Last time I tried eating one it sat on my counter for so long it sprouted these long stalks and I planted the thing outside to see if I could grow my own sweet potato…fyi, it worked, but only kinda. I had to plant it in a pot and one cutting resulted in 5 sweet potatoes but the pot was too small and the potatoes were tiny. Ah well. I really wanted to not have to do all that again with this one so I’m kinda happy I managed to eat it, even if it didn’t turn out as tasty as I wanted…I should’ve steamed it, it always tastes good done that way.

After I ate that I didn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day. I’m super pissed I ate it because I was up at weigh-in today, I’m sure if I had fasted I wouldn’t have been! Arg. So annoying.

I’m told that eating a “healthy amount on a regular basis” will not have me gaining huge amounts of weight and getting fat but one meal put me up over a pound! It’s hard to believe the counselors when the results of eating are easily seen in the number on the scale. If it is a choice between believing what people tell me or believing the scale I gotta say I lean heavily towards believing the scale, how can I not when it gives me concrete truth?

beauty

New Bones

Last week I noticed that the rib bones on the top part of my chest (above my breasts) are more visible. I don’t know when exactly that happened, it isn’t an area I focus on a lot, and I never thought I was fat there before but now that I can clearly see the bones there I wonder how I didn’t notice I had extra fat there.

Was I oblivious?

I think it is more that my collarbones are fairly prominent and I’m more concerned about the extra fat on my abdominal area and thighs. Gotta prioritize ya know?

So yeah…I’ve been losing more weight, yay! and gained new bones, yay! and I have massive amounts of fear that I will screw this up and lose them, boo!

Lose them…like they will fall out of my body or something *rolls eyes* Losing them would be having them once again hidden under dreaded fat. But seriously, why couldn’t the fat have come off other areas first? sigh.

For days after I noticed the new bones I was happy, I wished I had someone to share this new development with but not like there is anybody to tell. So I stayed quiet about it and hugged the news to myself, using it to boost my mood when I started to get a bit down. I also used it as motivation for restricting even more and helping to bolster my will power when tempted to eat.

Pretty fucked up huh?

I didn’t think it was all that noticeable to other people, I generally wear not high neck tops but not low ones either, so the area is covered up for the most part but something odd happened. I went to work and three different managers took time to sit down with me, give me some serious eye contact, and ask if I was ok.

Strange huh?

There is one person who knows a bit of what I go through, she doesn’t understand and keeps telling me to “just eat already!” but someone who knows a little bit is better then not having anybody, I guess…I’m not really sure…but in theory it is better. So yeah, she is a friend at work and I got paranoid that she ratted me out to management but I asked her about it and she swears she didn’t. She thinks they sat me down to talk because my initial weight loss was a “wow, how awesome” kind of thing but has gone too far and is now a “she’s getting too skinny” kind of thing. I don’t believe her, she is definitely exaggerating because I am nowhere near skinny enough to look like someone who anyone should worry about. I still have too much fat on me in too many places. But the timing sure was odd.

My initial happiness about the new chest bones has faded. I’m still happy about them, and I look at them in the mirror every day to make sure they aren’t getting hidden under fat again, but life gets in the way and other things have over ridden the happy emotions I got after first noticing the bones.

A friend died, and I’m not handling it well. I’m binge eating like crazy, which is making me more paranoid about losing the bones, which drives me to take more diet pills and laxatives, which gives me abdominal pain, which leads me to not eat because of the pain, which leads to me feeling too many emotions and stuffing my face to squash the emotions, which starts the cycle up all over again.

It sucks.

I was watching an old tv show on YouTube, it is about teens who go to a ranch for therapy instead of detention. It is from the late 80s or early 90s I think. I’ve been binge watching it and there was an episode where a girl has an eating disorder and also is super athletic and she had a heart attack because of an electrolyte imbalance and being near starved to death…though the actress they cast doesn’t look at all anorexic…but since you can’t always tell from looking at a person maybe that is why they cast her…ok not the point…

It got me wondering thought, about health side effects from eating disorders. I always think that the negative health stuff only happens to anorexics who are super under weight. I’m not gonna have electrolyte issues, or heart attacks, or whatever else might happen because there is still too much fat on me. I haven’t reached that level of danger. But maybe that is wrong? I dunno. I know I get chest pains, and sometimes shortness of breath from activities that shouldn’t cause me to be short of breath, but that is a far cry from actual heart issues.

I should probably ask my case worker at our next meeting but I think it is gonna be bad enough having to admit I started using my pills again. I can’t see a conversation that organically grows from that admission to “can I have heart issues even though I’m still so fat?”. It was bad enough the other week when I hadda talk to her about my self-harm action. *rolls eyes*

Something I don’t get about her, she hasn’t yelled at me yet. I keep waiting for her to get exasperated, or mad, or just plain yell or order me to do or not do something, but she always talks to me in a calm, patient, voice. Its weird.

This post is kinda all over the place. But so is my brain right now so I guess the post is a good reflection of the inside of my head.

I was supposed to work today but I called in sick. I had abdominal pains so it was a legit reason for calling, but during the day I realized I was acting odd…sorta numb, sad, depressed. I wanted to eat everything and anything but I wasn’t hungry, in fact the abdominal pain I had made eating rather unpleasant. I think it is a reaction to finding out about my friend dying…I was told yesterday and lemme tell ya, after I was told, the rest of my day did not go well. I was all over the place emotionally, mostly mad, but with burst of overwhelming sadness thrown in there for good measure. I just couldn’t face people today.

I’m so mad. Mad that he is dead. Mad that I’m going to have to deal with people at work talking about it for the next week. Mad I didn’t get to say goodbye. Mad that I let myself get attached.

Just. Mad.

That anger is driving pretty much everything I am doing right now. It drove me to eat two desserts today that I definitely didn’t need, or even want. It is currently driving me to not eat anything more until tomorrow as punishment for eating the desserts. It is why I keep punching the wall. Why I took my diet pills today, I wanted the stomach pain they would give me.

I feel like I deserve the pain. My inability to control my eating today means I earned pain, and punishment. I feel like I am being torn apart inside and it makes me want to scream that no one who sees me can tell. Is it because people don’t really look at people any longer or because I am that good at hiding what is really going on inside me. Does it matter which reason it is? Not really. The result is the same.

I hurt. I don’t mean the pain from the pills. I mean me, my heart, it hurts. My body hurts from how I treat it, my heart hurts because I was stupid enough to let it get attached to some people and one of them is now dead.

Death. It is so fucking final. I hate that I’ll never hear his voice anymore. I hate that no one will ever call me the nickname he called me. I hate that we’ll never joke around, and I’ll never read anymore stories that he wrote, I hate that we’ll never talk movies or books or stuff happening in the world. I hate that he is gone, and I especially hate that I am so fucking selfish that I keep thinking that his being gone means I am even more alone.

alone

 

 

F*ck Cancer

Fuck cancer.

I have a friend who one day was fine and the next day he was a little bit sick. He went to the doctor and in the blink of an eye he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Fuck.

Not that any one terminal cancer is better than the other but his is particularly aggressive, and painful, and it took him from being a vibrant, active, loving life person, to someone who is in so much pain he is permanently dopey from all the morphine being pumped in to his body. He can barely talk, hell, he is almost never awake. He can’t tell who is around him. He is not himself anymore.

The cancer has taken him from us before it has killed him.

I want to fight, I want to scream, I want to hit things, I want to do something, anything, that shows my grief, and fear, and rage, to the world. As if the world seeing how upset I am would make a difference to what he is going through.

I want it to be over for him because this is not how he wants to go. Not how he deserves to go. He deserves a peaceful, dignified death. What he is getting is painful, and bloody, and brutal, and is tormenting not only himself but those who love him. He lost his wife years ago and every day since then misses her. He still loves her with everything he has, he still talks about her as being the love of his life, he still talks about how much he misses her…or he did before the pain and the morphine took away his ability to talk. He wants to be with her again and even though I am not religious I wish for him, with all my being, that there is something after death, that he will get not just escape from the pain when he dies but the warm comforting love of his wife. I want her to be waiting for him. I want him to find a happy eternity. He deserves that.

He doesn’t deserve the horrible way his eternity is coming to him.

I knew he was sick but today I found out just how sick and I am having trouble coping. I had to stop at the store on the way home and before I knew it I was wandering the bakery aisles because hey, nothing makes grief go away better than diving in to a cake all on your own, right?

I ended up skipping the cakes, and the donuts, and the cheesecakes, and all kinds of things. I knew I wanted something but I wasn’t exactly sure what and I could only afford to buy one thing so it had to be the perfectly right thing to binge on. Feeling inspired I headed to the ice cream aisle. I could envision myself sitting in my living room, in my sweats, eating all the ice cream directly from the container. I slowly wandered the ice cream aisle wondering which flavour to take when I saw chocolate ice cream bars (think fudgesicle just a different brand) that I have had before. They are a “healthy option” ice cream bar type treat that I used last summer as a way to have ice cream without screwing up my food intake for the day.

I was so torn. I really wanted cake but I knew that not only would that screw up my weigh-in this week it would leave me feeling guilty, sick, overly full, depressed, worse about myself…all kinds of negative things, aaaaaaaand…it wouldn’t make my friend better. It wouldn’t make this situation with him better, or easier to manage, or somehow more bearable. It wouldn’t make my grief easier to cope with. It wouldn’t make the pain in my heart easier to deal with. It wouldn’t make the feeling that his death will be the one to break me, do irreparable damage to my psyche, go away. If anything, having a binge would make all those feelings even stronger because they would be backed by shame, and guilt, and all kinds of other binge related emotions.

This whole situation sucks.

In the end I bought the “healthier option” ice cream bars.

On the way home I thought I might go for a run but by the time I got home I was exhausted and didn’t want to. I didn’t even want the ice cream bars, shrug. I showered, ate a half cup of oatmeal (it is a safe food and I knew I was way below my food intake for the day so figured I should have something) and well, then I ended up eating part of a chocolate bar that I had in the fridge. I thought I would eat the whole thing but nope, just some of it. It is now back in the fridge. My appetite is gone…not that it is often there…but all I am right now is a ball of sadness.

It makes me tired, and not wanting to do anything, and I vaguely wonder if this will be the beginning of an extreme restricting cycle because my body is so busy being sad it can’t do anything else…

My coping skills for strong emotions are to dive deeper in to my eating disorder behaviours but that isn’t the best choice for me so I am kind of trying to not engage in them but I don’t have any other coping skills to help me with this so I am left floundering, not knowing what to do.

Fuck you cancer. You suck.

grief

Balance

I am not a religious person but I do tend to believe that there is something out there keeping things balanced. Nobody ends up with only good things in their life and nobody ends up with only bad things. Sure, sometimes it is perspective, to me someone’s life may look all bad but to the person in it they probably find joy in something I don’t see and the opposite is true. How many of us look at celebrities and think they lead charmed, perfect, lives? But when you dig a little deeper you find out that they’ve had to deal with the deaths of those closest to them, or they never got to say a final goodbye to someone, or they can’t seem to find and stay in a happy relationship to save their life.

It is all about balance.

In my own, small and inconsequential life, I see the balance that gets meted out and I gotta say, it sure can suck.

I act. No, I am not hugely famous, or even a little bit famous, but I want to be. Not the point of this post though so let’s move on from that. The reason I am telling you this is because I got cast in a commercial two weeks ago and holy crap was I over the moon about it. I mean, yeah, I had anxiety and freaked out about not eating anything until after the shoot so I looked my best, but right now I’m not caring about that side of things. I am caring that I got booked in to a commercial, this is great for my resume and bank account, I managed to do this without an agent (practically impossible) and now maybe I would have a better chance of getting a new agent because I could show how even when on my own I am able to book gigs.

On what seems an unrelated topic, last Tuesday I helped a friend out with some tech stuff at her place. She is a baker and as a thanks for my help she baked some focaccia bread with olives, and herbs from her garden, in it. I knew before I went over she was doing this so I ate a banana in the morning and nothing else. I wasn’t sure how to track home made bread so I needed to make sure I didn’t go over my daily allotment of food by eating some of this bread. I was booked in to film the commercial Friday and had to be careful in those final countdown days to do nothing that might mess with filming day.

After I fix her tech we sit down with cups of tea and reasonably sized slices of her bread. It was freakin amazing! I’ve never tasted bread so good before and I am a bread-aholic so trust me when I say I have eaten a lot of bread.

As I am getting ready to leave she says she is sending some of the bread home with me. She ends up sending the remaining loaf with me! An entire loaf of bread, minus the two small slices we ate, coming home with me…not a good situation to say the least.

I swear to myself I am going to freeze the bread, if not all of it then at least most of it but what do I do? I end up eating some of it while still driving back to my place. Then I proceed to cancel my evening plans, hold the bread like it is some over sized donut, and eat. And eat. And eat. Until it is almost all gone. I put a small chunk back in the ziploc and sit there, overly full on homemade bread, wondering what the fuck I have just done. I drink some tea. I try to not focus on the fact that I just filled my body with more carbs in one sitting than it usually gets in a week and I go back and forth between trying to justify my actions and berating myself. Oh, and then I finished the loaf of bread.

A bit later I check my email and what do I see but an email from the producer saying my part of the commercial has been cut because it was deemed to dangerous to film. They said I was great, loved my audition, really wanted to work with me, and they’d keep me in mind for future projects.

Who the fuck cares about future projects when I want this project?!

And that my friends, is how the universe brings balance to my life. I got a part in a project all on my own, instead of staying the course so I’d be optimal for filming day I break down and eat a fuck-ton of bread, and that same day the job is taken away from me.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to escape my life.

Instead I went through the rest of my evening, I watched some tv, read a book, had a shower where I stood for ages letting the water pour over me and acknowledged I could feel the depression sweeping over me like a wave, pulling me down. I went to bed and realized I was now feeling nothing. Not tired. Not awake. Not caring.

The next day I got up and did everything by rote. Got ready for work, worked for 8 hours, came home, went to bed, all as if I hadn’t gotten devastating news that made me want to hibernate. I felt nothing. Cared about nothing. Appetite was gone, all I wanted to do was shut out the world.

I had brought this on myself. I had screwed this up. This was my fault and I have to deal with that and deal with paying the consequences for screwing up.

Balance.

It will be forced on me by the universe whether I want it or not, it is up to me to deal with it, and try to do better.

Since then I took some pills to get the bread out of me faster. Have restricted my food to make up for the binge. Went to my sports practice even though I didn’t want to. Went to a stupid art therapy class this morning even though I really didn’t want to. Done everything I was supposed to do. Not in the hopes of getting that job back, it is gone and I have to accept that, but in the hopes of balancing things out enough I get a shot at another gig sooner rather than later. Or an agent – that would be even better.

self hate

etheral