But today, not so much. It’s challenging today, Evenings are the worst, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel I have hours to kill before bed, and I’m trying to do so without bingeing and purging.
If I look at it honestly, I’m not using any of the coping skills in my repertoire, because I’m just too damn tired. I don’t want to do Sodoku, play with the dogs, read a book, watch a movie, play cards, ect . . . , and I have no friends to call to help me get through the rough moments, hours, days, and weeks. For now, I don’t want to do anything except will the panic away. I rented two movies earlier in the day preparing for this moment of panic and anxiety, but am uninterested in what I rented. All that I care to do is eat something, anything, and purge it.
But I’m trying to follow the actions through. In the short term it might make me feel better to purge, but in the long run I will feel worse, both physically and mentally. I realize this truth in my MIND, but my HEART hasn’t caught on to the notion. And my heart is wondering why the hell it can’t feel better right now. My heart is breaking open desperately. And it bargains if I can’t binge and purge, then let me burn myself. Just a small place on my arm and it will feel better. I will give anything to feel better. Just don’t ask what is wrong, because I fucking don’t know. It’s just all wrong. And I feel so alone.
I know my internal tantrums are partly because my meal plan is increased, and I haven’t worked out today. It’s a rest day. Shit on that. I skimped on dinner to make up for it. I took an ill-advised trip to the grocery store with Husband (he can’t drive as he had a 2nd round of ECT today. More on that later). I peruse the aisles, looking at all the means to an end, fantasize about all the food I could easily purge. I know through past experience if I just let myself relax and have some of those “forbidden” foods, I won’t crave them so much or want to binge on them. But I will not find the bridge to that nirvana anytime soon, because I’m soooo terrified of gaining weight and adamantly refuse to gain weight that the joy of eating what my body craves must remain a mystery to me.
This is not a way to “live.” It’s a self-induced, slow acting death.