Lunch time today was without a doubt one of the hardest meals that I’ve tried to have in such a long time and there is not one bit of me that feels anything but hostility towards it. I don’t want to be this upset about it several hours later but I can’t deny that I still am and that when I still think about it I am still rattled. It all started this morning when I invited my Mother to come to town with me so that I could get some last-minute things for Paris. The plan was that we would go do some shopping and go to this new Pita Place that has opened up, which is essentially like a subway – you know decide what you want and how you want it – but with Pita bread. I felt challenged but ok with the decision to go there. However by the time I’d finished getting dressed, my Mother had also invited her friend to come with us. Absolutely not a problem because mostly I like her and she’s pretty amusing to be around (if I ignore the horribly prejudiced things she says at times). The problem though was that the friend had been to one of those ‘Around the World’ buffets that had recently opened up and really wanted to go back and my Mother was also interested in going. Based on the reports of the friend I thought that I could manage it because according to her, there was everything available and if all else fails there is an amazing salad bar. NONE OF THIS WAS TRUE!.
They went up for their first course and then I followed. I spent a good 10 minutes going backwards and forwards, looking at all the dishes, deciding if there was anything even remotely safe. There wasn’t as everything was pretty much Chinese or Indian (not a fan of either) and the salad bar was basically lettuce, cucumber, peppers and heavily mayonnaised potatoes and coleslaw. So that’s what I put on my plate minus the potatoes and coleslaw. I returned to the table, trying to stop that horrible need to cry or walk out. I was frustrated with myself, frustrated with the spontaneity of coming to the restaurant in the first place and also that I was about to spend so much money on a meal that I didn’t want. Did they not get it? Did they not understand what they were asking me to do? Did they not see that the position they had put me in was not something I was equipped to deal with?
I think something shut down inside of me then when I saw their faces. There was that look of irritation and the thought of “just eat for goodness sake” evident. They went up for plate 3(?) and then I followed. 10 minutes later I came back with a few different things and fought with the thoughts that told me to leave. I ate and with every bite the hate inside of me grew. I don’t even know what the food tasted like, whether or not it was good or delicious. It was just me and that plate and every terrible thing that could ever be heard was screaming in my ears. When it was over, my mother offered me a well done. I thought (seriously) about stepping out in front of the next bus. How can that reaction still be elicited in me? How is that a rational thought sequence?
I ate bits in that restaurant but there is nothing in it that I am proud of because it was purely an action and one that I haven’t been able to bounce back from yet. It still lingers. I can’t let myself be proud of something that is hurting me so much. I can’t be proud at all. I have no intention of ever going back and I have no idea if I can even trust my meal time plans with my family anymore. They have no idea how much energy it takes to be like that. There were a good few hours after lunch when I just couldn’t talk. I couldn’t have a conversation because my mood had darkened so much and my thoughts were pulling me too far from the surface. Some days it infuriates me that despite all the years that have passed, they still expect me to be this certain way and I can’t deliver on that. I’m not going to wake up and be fine. That upsets me and it upsets me because I realise it so much more when I am asked to do something that is beyond me. I know I need to stop expecting my family to be who I need them to be but that is something easier said than done. I think we all crave the things that we will never get and for me that is understanding.
I know how much of a brat this post makes me sound but this blog is about being honest in regards to my recovery and I guess the reality is that an eating disorder can at times (a lot of the time) make you in to this person who you had no intention of ever being. It is not an endearing illness. I can’t wait for the day when this no longer matters.
Apologies for the rantiness and I hope you are having a better day.