Sometimes it seems like I am two people housed in the same body. There is the me that goes to classes and smiles, who makes jokes in the office whilst doing several jobs at once, and who appears confident and as though they know what they’re talking about. Then there is the other side and it is that side which I am finding hard to contain. It creeps in randomly throughout the day before settling into my entire body when the evening rolls around. It is leaving me exhausted. All this thinking about weight, food, numbers, what my body is doing or not doing, the headaches, the god-awful anxiety, it all combines to this crescendo and it makes me want to ache with sadness because I just want it to stop. I saw my doctor yesterday and he’s prescribed me propranolol to help with the anxiety, the difficulty is that I am kind of terrified to take it. This whole health anxiety takes over and I convince myself that I’m going to have an allergic reaction or it’s just going to cause me heart to randomly stop and then I get all psycho-somatic. I need to take it, that much is clear…I think I’m going to go stay at my parents tomorrow and take the first dose then and see if that helps things, the not being alone in case something happens thing.
I don’t know when all this started really. This insane illogical fear that something terrible is going to happen to my body. I never used to be like this, it never used to bother me. For years I threw everything I could into my system and it didn’t matter if it was alcohol, prescription meds or recreational drugs. I didn’t care, not about myself and not about consequences either, and my body took it all. Sure it complained but it was fine, it functioned. So why now??? Where the hell is all this coming from? And if I was so concerned with it then why am I still holding on to the eating disorder because surely that is the thing that is going to do the most damage to me and not some medication which has been prescribed for my benefit. My fears are irrational and I know that but for some reason it just doesn’t sink in.
At the moment, as much as I am hating the weight gain and find that the sight or feel of my flesh is intolerable to think of most of the time, I would rather be at a healthy weight with a repaired body than be like this. I would take the weight gain if I just felt human and strong. It isn’t worth it. Still I am missing out on life because of this disorder, I’m saying no to things because I’m too tired or it clashes with an eating time. It feels like I am continuously waiting for the time I get to leave and I don’t want to be like that. And that’s another thing…at the moment it just seems like I’m waiting to feel better. Waiting for my mood to improve, my anxiety to lessen, my body to get stronger. I am waiting and waiting and getting frustrated with myself and tired of the situation and instead of doing something to make those changes I am left feeling powerless. That makes no sense to me, and then I wonder what I could do to make it happen sooner and that seems undo-able and the cycle just continues.
Getting back on track with trauma work in therapy is proving difficult too. I still have two chapters to work through tonight which I’ve put off all week. My appointment is in the morning, we already identified that I’m censoring what I’m saying in my sessions and it’s true. I’m terrified of making certain links, as though if I do I will no longer be able to function in my present. I think I’ve already mentioned at some point on here about how I hate my worlds colliding, and this one would be a big collide. I’m not sure I’m ready to handle that. Also I get weighed in the morning which is never fun. I know it’s gone up. I want it to go up and yet I cannot stop hating it or being ashamed about it. It’s been a good few weeks that I have maintained on my increase plan without freaking out and losing all the weight again. I want to be proud about that but at the moment there is just too much going on for me to be ok with it. I don’t know how to tell her that it’s getting too much. I self harmed this week. The first time in over a year and a half. I should be more upset about it than I am, it should have confirmed that it wasn’t what I needed it to be anymore and that I don’t need to go back to it, but to be honest it just made me sad and want to do it again. I haven’t and I have no intention anymore to do it again…but I just. I’m so confused and tired.
So I’m going to try not think, and take my meds and knit and do my chapters and then tomorrow I will start my new meds and not freak out about them. I will get through my therapy appointment and I will go see my friend in a secure unit who I haven’t seen in over 2 years because she has been in some medium secure unit out of area. And I will continue to eat…no matter what the numbers say. Because I need to…because I want to be alive and not just here existing.