Yesterday’s session with my therapist was hard work!! I feel myself beginning to trust her and as though I want to be able to tell her things and this freaks me out more than anything. I almost let go of one of my biggest secrets during the appointment, the words pressing heavily on my tongue and my mouth trying to form the words, then I stopped, closed it back up. I couldn’t do it. It would change everything and I worry that once I say the truth out loud I may not be able to live with myself. On the one hand it needs to come out in order for me to heal, and yet on the other hand I am scared of the consequences. I am unsure.
I didn’t get weighed, we ran out of time and I kept drifting off somewhere between the past and present. It didn’t seem like such a good idea to put myself through that process. Seeing the number going up was the last thing I needed when I want to make myself small enough to disappear. We’re going to do it next week. Maybe by then I’ll be a little bit more comfortable with the idea that I am getting bigger. I doubt it…but I’m sure it won’t undo me like it would have done yesterday.
The thing is that I’m willing to give up everything I believe to be healthy for once. I am gaining weight so that I can move on with my life. I have all the good intentions drifting about inside of me but the reality is something else. Wearing jeans, looking in the mirror, seeing my legs, walking, sitting…every possible situation is like torture at the moment because I cannot escape the image of myself which makes me feel hollow and full at the same time. I come close at times to doubling over because of the sheer heaviness of sadness inside of me that comes from living in a body that doesn’t fold itself as easily as it once did. There is this longing inside of me for the days when the Anorexia was not mixed with recovery and the only thing that held my attention was losing weight. I want to lose weight and I feel guilty for thinking that because I want to be healthy too, and those two things in my world cannot go hand in hand. I wonder if it ever ends? If there is ever going to be a point at which I can let it go, and not just the behaviours but all of it.
I’m staying at my parents for the weekend so that I could start the new meds. I took the first dose yesterday and another dose this morning and I’m still alive so I guess that’s always a good thing. They made me a little sleepy last night but then I was quite restless through the night and got up very early this morning (although that isn’t that uncommon for me). I’m just going to try and stick with them and not let my anxieties over-take the rational side which tells me that these could help me.
I’m not feeling particularly positive at the moment but I’m hopeful that maybe things will be different one day, because if I don’t keep that hope alive then what is the point in carrying on? I’ll get through, I’ll take my meds, I’ll eat my meals. I’ll keep going.
I have to.