Drowning

Being touched is so unappealing, I feel nauseated after sex. I literally gag. I want to cry. It’s not my husband. It’s just me and my crippling mental health issues.

I’m in the middle of a crowd, and I want to scream. Not that I just want to scream... I actually contemplate screaming. At the top of my lungs, just one long scream. I wonder how others around would react. I wonder what’s making me feel this way. I wonder why that instinct to do so appeared in the fiat place.

I’m pretty sure I’m mean. I know I am. I have no patience. My fuse is about a centimeter long, and I have to save it for work. For the baby. The older kids and my husband and the dog just get explosive me. I don’t remember how to love properly anymore. I can’t identity this personality change or what to do about it. Even my pills don’t help enough.

I was not ready to be a mom. Can you ever be, I wonder? I miss sleeping. I miss my body. I miss my freedom. The question of if it’s worth it isn’t even something I feel the need to pay mind to. I know I’m a pretty decent mom. But I wish I had about 10% more freedom and 10% less responsibility.

Everything in my life is draining.

I can’t wait for my husband to go out of town so I can down a bottle of wine.

I wish I could fix me.

Another depressive ED cycle

My thoughts on why I came here today and what I wanted to say are scattered. There’s no real message. I’m just here. Still struggling with aspects of mental and physical health. Still determined to make progress.

I always tell them you have your whole life to figure it out.

Monday and Tuesday were throw away days this week. I called out of work. After the party this weekend, I couldn’t manage. I could barely walk. My depression was crippling, and I was tired of fighting it. It had been another two months since I called out. I have to make sure I go at least 3 next time.

I’ve been pushing myself too hard and taking on too much. I’ve been allowing myself to be over-scheduled and setting my own standards too high. When I stop and look around, I can clearly see that no one is even impressed. I’m just raising the bar for myself in excess for no real reason and no one is even noticing.

Perfectionist tendencies will be the death of me.

I have started trying to follow my own advice. To give myself what I need. To allow my process to be slow and a priority. I have to make myself a priority again. That is the missing piece for me.

I’ve been eating well for two days now with good plans ahead. I have got to lose weight. No amount of self esteem and acceptance will make me feel ok in this current body. I’m miserable and unhealthy, and the only way to fix that is to get it under control.

But slowly. One small goal at a time. I need to practice what I preach. I’ll be along for the journey we are supposed to start next week. I hope I’m equipped. I know what to do, but I’ve never done it the right way before. Not really. Not for good.

I can no longer distinguish if my hunger is emotional or physical.

I just don’t want to feel that way anymore. I want sobriety from all the things Ana and Mia promise. I want abstinence. I want to stop being addicted to my eating disorder. I thought I had overcome it. I thought I was sober. But I have had relapse after relapse and been on many benders. This more recent one is probably the worst I’ve been.

That thought depresses me.

It really is time to get my shit together.