I am not doing so good at the moment.
Fear has creeped into me and keeps getting the better of me. It’s been three days since what happened, happened and the anxiety has not eased at all. I’ve tried to go back, get a handle on it but something happens between giving myself a pep talk and telling myself that I can do it to getting into the area that I live. A knot forms on the inside of my stomach, my heart starts to hammer, I shake all over and all I can see and feel is that moment when the men ran at me from round the corner. It hurts, it literally makes me gasp and I forget how to be able to breathe. For the first two nights, I stayed at my parents because the idea of spending a night at home made me violently sick. I went back a few times in the day and found that with other people I could just about handle it but the moment I tried to go alone, even just for a minute to pick something up I had a panic attack and ended up locked in my car trying to control my breathing. However yesterday, trying to hold on to the attitude of “Don’t let them win” I decided to go back home. I thought it would be tolerable as I had spent the morning there with my family (Mum gardening, Dad adding an extra bolt and my sister just sat outside in the sun) and my brother was going to come and spend the night with me. Yet as soon as the sun began to set, the fear grew more persistent and overwhelming. It didn’t matter that my brother was there, all I could think was that they were coming back. This time they would come and they would be ready for me to fight and they really would win. I didn’t dare open the windows and I lost track of how many times I checked the locks. I knew last night that as much as I was trying to ride this out I couldn’t go back to living there. I can’t.
I’m jumping at my own shadow at the moment, in quiet spaces, in busy spaces, when people are running near me. I hold my breath and try not to cry. I try not to cry full stop. Tonight I’m back at my parents after having to get a colleague to come home with me so that I could pack an overnight bag because even though it was daytime it was more than I could handle. What I hate more than anything about this situation is how weak and pathetic it makes me feel. I am not this person.
The Eating Disorder has tried to rage against me and I do not have the heart to fight it. I am still eating but seem to have nearly slipped all the way back to pre-increasement intake. I am fooling myself into thinking that it is enough to sustain me, that I am fine and the reason I am so tired is just because I’m particularly stressed at the moment. My work is piling up, the demands on my time is difficult as I try to juggle the new tiring commute to my parents along with my need to stay as busy as possible and saying yes to everything that lands on me. I do not want to say no. I do not want to stop or think or let myself be alone with my thoughts. I miss my solitude and I miss how comfortable I used to be with it. I know that I don’t want Anorexia to get a grip on me again but somehow through minimising everything else, I am trying to minimise this too. It didn’t help when I went to see ‘a’ doctor, not ‘my’ doctor (annual leave) yesterday to just check that things were going alright as I was having such a rough time physically with the increases and sometimes things can go a little wrong. I was trying to be responsible for my health and also I needed to check out the injuries I sustained from Sunday. His response to the uncomfortableness of my meal plan was to just simply reduce what I was eating, cut it down to something that I felt comfortable with. How does he not know that Anorexia will never let me be comfortable with eating anything! “The idea is to make you more ok and normal with food and so just do what feels right and also it’s not life threatening if you decide to eat more or less” Seriously??? I must have missed the article that said that an eating disorder is a safe disorder to have and does not pose any risk to the individual. In terms of the injuries he was also incompetent and informed me that my neck was not broken (really? because I didn’t know that already!) and that he hopes that I have a better weekend next week. Needless to say I wasn’t very happy when I left.
I realise that I have to get back on track with my meal plan. I have to stop making excuses or taking it easy on myself because it only leads in one direction and every time the climb back up gets harder. I still want to be free but the chains have just strengthened their grip. I’m not giving in. Not to the eating disorder. However I am giving to what happened and have every intention of moving as soon as possible.