Comfort In Numbers

I know in recovery we aren’t supposed to focus on numbers.

No calories, no hopping on a scale, no tracking of workouts (if you’re even allowed to work out!), basically, if there is a number attached to what you want to do, it’s a no-go.

Lately I’ve been breaking all the number rules, and I’m finding a lot of comfort in that.

I started tracking my calories again, and fyi, was horrified at how much I’m eating. It’s no wonder I’m feeling fatter and my clothes are tighter.

Then I stepped on the scale, silently (and not so silently) begging the universe to not let the number be too high. It was seven pounds up from the last time I weighed myself. Seven fucking pounds!!

Kinda proved all the doctor’s talk about how eating more won’t make me gain weight is bullshit.

During all this I started kind of tracking my workouts. I already keep track of weight lifting info (weight, rep, set, basic stuff) because that’s just common gym sense. But now I’m also keeping a better record of my cardio, my hikes, my steps, all my fitness stuff. I’m not trying to keep a record of how many calories I burn or anything, granted my FitBit kinda does that for me, I’m just trying to make sure I have more active days than non-active.

Tonight as I was tidying up a dirty dish I realized having the numbers known and tracked was comforting. I was feeling better about my eating, I had less stress and guilt about what I had eaten that day. And if I started to stress I could go back to my food log and see that no, I hadn’t fucked up, everything was ok.

So now I’m conflicted. I know I’m not supposed to look at the numbers but for me they are making me feel better. The numbers gave me permission to eat today, if I hadn’t tracked my food today I wouldn’t have had an after work snack, even though I was hungry, because I would’ve thought I’d eaten too much to be allowed something more to eat. Instead, I had a snack, and don’t feel guilty about having eaten it! That’s gotta count for something, right?

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.

 

 

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?

I May Not Always Be Right

Yeah so um, maybe I was lying the other night when I wrote things are fine. I didn’t mean to lie, I felt that at the time, but perhaps, possibly, just maaaaaybe that was me blocking that I wasn’t fine and doing my whole hiding behind a mask thing.

The only reason I say that is because I am sitting here, with a distended abdominal area, feeling super sick, after having a binge so large I am amazed my stomach didn’t literally explode. I haven’t had a binge this big in ages. It lasted hours. I couldn’t stop. The best I could do to make it not as bad as it could have been was at the last minute when driving home I cut across traffic so I could turn in to my neighbourhood instead of continuing on to the store where I had planned to buy allllllll the food.

Not like that stopped the binge though, I do have food in my place after all. I’m thinking I should rethink that, but that is something to ponder on a day when I’m not bloated, and a billion pounds heavier, and sick feeling, thanks to eating hours worth of food.

I’m not completely sure why it happened.

I had work, then group, then my team practice, then I got home and ate so much I should be rolling places not walking.

I didn’t say much in group, I had something I sort of but not really wanted to talk about. I might have brought it up but being there made me so sad I just wanted to disappear, not engage in the convo. I’m really struggling with the loss of my one-on-one counsellor. Last week was my first week without our session, this was the first group where he wasn’t there. Tonight it felt like there was this big void where he should be, but isn’t. Even though he was replaced by someone I like, I wish she would leave again if the trade off was getting him back. I know that is stupid. She has important stuff to teach and share and all that, hell, she is my case worker so she sorta has to be there for me to progress through the program. Its just I want him back.

While I was sitting in group someone said something, I wish I could remember what, and it got me thinking I might share, so I started thinking of how I would start my talking and I realize my opening sentence would have no meaning to anyone except him. But he’s gone. So no one would get the significance of what I was saying, so I’d have to explain in more detail what was going on, and I wasn’t up for that. That realization made me feel so alone. No one there just gets me, and I didn’t really realize how much I liked having someone who understood me, until I had him for a short time and he left and I now feel the gap in my recovery support system of where he was.

It is like a chair. Has 4 legs. In theory they are all equally supporting the chair but maybe one is taking the brunt of the weight. Then that one leg is taken away and the chair falls because it doesn’t have enough support.

I’m the chair, he was that one leg.

I am in this place of not really giving a fuck about recovery. Am I happy I binged tonight? No, definitely not. Am I unhappy about it because it affects my recovery journey? Only in the sense that I don’t want to get fatter and would much rather be restricting. As long as this binge doesn’t turn in to an often thing and I can get back to restricting tomorrow, which shouldn’t be a problem, then all is good. At least by my standards.

Maybe not everyone is meant to recover. I mean, if losing one person from my recovery journey affects me so much, maybe it is better to just not take this journey and instead figure out a way to deal with my disorder in a functional way. Like how there are functioning pot heads, and functioning alcoholics. Maybe I can be like that, only with restricting.

It’s something to ponder…

Under Control

Ok today was better, making me feel like an idiot for posting last night when I was freaking out.

Sorry ’bout that.

Today I got my workout in while keeping my calories low and I’m feeling much better about things. More in control.

I’m about to go to bed, just thought I’d pop on here and say things are ok again so as to not leave the most recent post on my blog one of me spazzing lol

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.

 

Dentist Time

I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, well, technically today since it is 1:15am, but whatever.

I have a love – hate relationship with dentists.

I hate going to the dentist and having someone poke around in my mouth. Ugh.

I love my dentist though because he is crazy hawt, super nice, we have a lovely little flirt every time I am there, and well, it is the most conversation I have with a man pretty much ever. Pathetic I know!

I also love going to the dentist because it gives me a built in legit reason to not eat for most, if not all, of the rest of the day.

WooHoo!

See, tomorrow isn’t a normal check-up and cleaning. Tomorrow he is taking out an old filling and redoing it, he discovered something wrong with it at my standard cleaning a couple weeks ago. I need a ridiculous amount of freezing to not feel anything, so by the time he is done I have lost feeling in the entire side of my face. Literally, the entire side from the bottom of my eye to my jaw. It is crazy. I don’t care for the sensation, or lack there of, when it is frozen or when it is slowly coming back from being frozen. What I do love is that because it is so frozen I can’t eat. Hell, I can barely manage to sip water.

Nothing like trying to drink something and having it dribble out the side of your mouth that you can’t control *rolls eyes*

My appointment is at noon, no way will I eat before going, I don’t eat that early in the day. And when it is over I’ll be too numb to be able to eat anything. So I’ll spend the rest of my day with a warm compress on my cheek, sitting in my apartment chillin, and NOT eating.

I. Can’t. Wait.

Diet Pills

I couldn’t write you a comprehensive list of all the diet pills and supplements I’ve taken over the years if you offered to pay me for it. Not because I’m not willing to share but because there have been so many I can’t remember them all.

For the past year or so I’ve been using, off and on, the same ones. I say “off and on” because technically, in treatment, I’m not supposed to be taking them. Or I’m at least supposed to be actively working at not taking them. Sometimes I do that. Sometimes I say fuck it as I pop em in my mouth.

Yes, I know diet pills are not regulated, or guaranteed to work, and are most likely harmful to my body, but, well, in the moment none of that matters to me. I feel that stopping taking them daily to only taking them when I have had a binge is a vast improvement and frankly, I can’t envision a life where I don’t have some occasionally. I don’t understand how not everybody has some stashed away.

A couple weeks ago I was at an essential oils party and one of the oils is for weight loss, hunger suppressant, stuff like that. There is also an option to buy a diet pill version and a shake powder.

Uh hello, a new diet pill? Why don’t you just pass that brochure on over here k?

I took a look at the blurb written about them, talked to the lady selling them, and boom! Ordered a bottle.

The stupid things are so not cheap, and I really can’t afford them. But the promise of a pill that will help suppress my appetite and make me skinny was too much to pass up.

I must have been feeling conflicted about it because I had a doc’s appointment last week and mentioned it to him. This is a shrink doc, not a body doc, I see him once every six weeks as part of my recovery program.

So yeah, he asked about my pill usage, and I told him, and then I mentioned how I bought a new one but hadn’t gotten it yet. He strongly suggested I cancel the order before I have the pills in my possession. I didn’t agree or disagree, just made some non-committal noise.

I honestly hadn’t thought I could cancel them, I’d given my word I was ordering them, I can’t go back on that, right?

I decided to let fate decide. The next day I texted the lady and asked if the order had gone in yet. She said no. I asked her to cancel my order as I had some unexpected expenses and couldn’t afford them – yes, I lied, deal with it. She asked if it would be ok to check with me in a month or so to see if I wanted them then. I said yes, mostly out of politeness, but I guess also so I don’t feel like the opportunity is lost to me forever.

I don’t know how I feel about cancelling the order. Money wise I feel relieved, I really can’t afford them. But the rest of me doesn’t feel happy about it. I guess I feel conflicted? I want the pills. I can give you a ton of arguments why I should have the pills. I honestly can’t give you one single argument for not having the pills except the shrink said to cancel the order. The decision was definitely not one made by me from a recovery mindset. I guess that doesn’t matter too much, as the result is the same, except it pisses me off that other people can buy these pills and try them, and what if these are the diet pills that really do work and I miss out on them, but I can’t buy them, all because of my eating disorder.

It doesn’t help that I’m having a horrible, and I mean horrible, body image day, and my stomach has been hurting every time I eat something for two days now, and I’m sliding down in to sadness – that is something that happens now and then. I can feel it happening but have no way to stop it, sigh. And apparently I am the equivalent of a pouty toddler because dammit, I want them *stomps foot*

Which, if I am being logical, is the perfect reason to not have them. I want them too much. And if I’m being honest I don’t need help suppressing my appetite, I barely have an appetite as-is *rolls eyes*

I still want them though…

Grocery Shopping

Ok so can we talk about grocery shopping for a minute?

I hate it. I hate walking in to the grocery store and being surrounded by all that food. I feel like my brain shuts off and I literally become incapable of action.

I’ll stand at the entrance area to the produce section and just stare, I have no idea what way to go, which foods to aim for, what to buy, so I panic a bit and come to a dead stop. When I finally start moving I tend to walk as if I am wandering aimlessly, all casual like, nothin to see over here thanks, when in reality I know I will end up at the bananas, because they are the only fruit I buy – except frozen, I can buy frozen fruit for my protein smoothies. I will stare wistfully at the apples, and the grapes, and oh man do I stare at the peaches (when they are in season), but I can’t buy any of them. I may contemplate it, try to convince myself that sure I can eat an apple this week, and then I remember all the other times I tried, couldn’t bring myself to eat the apple, ended up composting it and cursing myself for wasting money. So I walk away.

Don’t even ask about how long I stare at things like avocados, it is ridiculous.

Then I walk past all the aisles, I buy almost nothing from an aisle (except tea and diet coke), but I stare down them like they hold great mysterious things, not scary foods I will never buy and don’t even want to walk past. Over to the yoghurt, that I stare at, and then walk away from. I eventually reach the milk, that I will buy as I put some in my tea.

If I am feeling strong I will walk out through the bakery section, eyeballing all those various pastries and cakes and feeling proud that I am not buying any of them, even though I want them all.

The entire time I tend to have a hand in my jacket pocket, clenched, or if my arms are crossed than one hand is gripping the opposite arm for dear life. Body language! I’m sure a shrink would have a field day watching the body language of a person with an eating disorder when they are in a grocery store.

I hate that I can literally become so paralyzed and overwhelmed that I can’t move, or make a decision. I can stare at a bag of salad for ages, completely indecisive about whether I should risk buying it or not. The questions I ponder, the list of pros and cons I mentally go through, as I stare at each different food, it takes forever, and is depressing, and since I can never figure out the answer to the problem of if I should buy the item or not, I end up not buying it.

At times, the regret and sadness I feel when walking away from something is super real. But I can’t find a good enough reason to buy the item, or even believe that if I were to buy it I’d be able to eat it. And if I’m not going to be able to eat it then why bother wasting the money?

I’ve tried variations on grocery shopping, buy everything all at once, buy only a couple things at a time, go with a list, wing it and see what I feel like buying, none of it helps.

I inevitably end up with the same items. Milk, bananas (though those are becoming increasingly harder to buy lately), tea, diet coke, boneless skinless chicken breast, frozen veggies, frozen fruit, eggs, and lately some cheese.

I’ve been trying to eat cereal, and sometimes I can. Lucky for me it lasts a long time in the cupboard lol I’ve bought crackers for meal support, they always go stale before I finish the box so I compost them but I’ve bought them twice now, which for me is impressive because I hadn’t bought crackers for more years than I can remember until needing them the other month for meal support. I don’t like seeing them in my cupboard though, and when I bought them I felt like I was doing something wrong, like people would be judging me for having them in my basket.

Other people seem to find grocery shopping fun, or at least not immobilizing. I wonder what that must be like?

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*