Tag Archives: death

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

 

 

The D Word

Dare I say it?

Maybe if I say it here nobody will judge me for it?…guess I’ll find out…

I think I am depressed.

*braces for accusing glares and judgement*

In my defence I have a legit reason for it, and its not anything to do with food or guys, shocking huh?

Last Friday I watched someone I know die. Not in a peaceful-they-were-in-hospital-we-all-knew-it-was-coming-way but in a sudden-and-massive-heart-attack-and-they-died-while-I-was-giving-them-cpr-way.

I can’t stop thinking about it. It is always there, if I am busy I can kinda push it aside a bit but it is still there. If I am not busy the memories are floating all over my brain just waiting for the opportunity to blast me with a flashback to that night.

I’m exhausted.

I don’t think I will ever forget how it felt to be giving chest compressions to her, how it felt to watch her stop breathing, how it felt to see the remaining glimmer of life go out of her eyes and know she was gone.

Seeing a dead body at a funeral or wake and seeing a person die right before you, oh so drastically different and to be honest, not something I had ever thought about prior to this incident.

I keep thinking if I had responded faster, been better at cpr, just…I don’t know, done something differently she would be alive and I wouldn’t have failed. I’ve never had a failure result in a person’s death before, have you? It is a weight I can’t get out from under.

When I was in University I was on track for law school, for many reasons I changed my mind but one reason, a reason I never told anybody was this…if I, as a lawyer fail, it’s not a small thing, depending on what area of law I practice, someone could go to jail for life, or lose everything in a divorce, I could cost a company millions…I could drastically alter someones life by failing, or at least by not being good enough, and that is not the kind of stress I want in my life.

On Friday I wasn’t good enough, and a lady died because of that.

Even though I know that cpr is meant more to keep blood flowing so organs can still be used for transplant and not for actually saving a life, there is still that thought in my head that it can be used to save a life, it does sometimes. But not this time. Why not this time?!?! 

I’m tired all the time now. I can’t bring myself to legit care about anything. I’m going through the motions everyday and barely managing that. I binged on my fave food, it did nothing for me. I bought something I’ve been wanting for a while, no emotional response what so ever. I can tell my emotions are stuffed down somewhere, like they are beneath the surface, stopping me from feeling anything and everything. Maybe it is a natural reaction, my body or my psyche saving me from overwhelming negative emotions but the only way to do it is to stop all emotions? I dunno.

I just know that I don’t care. I don’t care what I eat. If I sleep. Who I see. If I keep in touch with people. If I do anything at all. I could sit here all day without having showered, smelling up my apartment and I wouldn’t give a fuck. The only reason I am doing anything at all is because I don’t want to deal with the exhausting work of convincing people I am ok if they see I am not. It is much easier to act as normal as I can and not have people wonder if I am ok then have people wonder and then have to go above and beyond to convince them I am fine.

I am not fine.

But I need people to think I am fine because I can’t deal with having to make them feel better while I am feeling nothing at all.

depressed