I am tired. Maybe more than tired. Sometimes there are words in the English language that are not sufficient to explain what it is that a person feels but they are the closest ones that we have. Just as I am ‘tired’ I am also sad and frustrated. Sometimes I find myself irritated by the smallest of things but equally I don’t really care. I am trying to figure out how it makes sense that I can feel both things at the same time. Such contradictions have been the basis of my mental health problems. Depression vs Anxiety. Health vs Destruction. Love vs Hate. Numbness vs Intensity. The list is probably endless. All of it continues to exhaust me. What tires me out the most though is the hiding, the pretence, the faking it but knowing that I’m not going to make it. Each spoken word drains me. I leave whatever meeting I am in, whichever friend I have chosen to see or family member that I have visited and it wipes me out for hours. I get home and curl up on the couch, wondering how many hours will pass before I am able to move again. Sometimes there isn’t a choice. I am expected to be somewhere else, to be somebody else and I force myself to get up. I put that smile back on my face, hating the fact that I am the age that I am and still playing the game and go do whatever is expected of me. None of it feels natural or easy right now.
As the days move past me it gets harder to remember why I chose recovery. I continuously question what I was thinking. Why did I do that to myself? What was I hoping to achieve? What delusional part of my brain thought I could achieve it? The weight restoration gave the people who loved me false hope. To them it was Anorexia loosing it’s power and me coming back to life. To me, it was painful and remained painful and the knowledge sat in a special place at the back of my brain, that the Eating Disorder would not be so easily dismissed. I have tried so hard to leave it behind but at the moment it doesn’t seem like those efforts have been enough. You see, even though for the most part my weight is fine if not stable, the thoughts and twisting self hate consumes me. I wake up and I think about it and it stays long past I have gone to sleep. For years I didn’t dream because of the medication I was on so when I slept, it was deep and empty. I didn’t dream through the worse years of the disorder. Now I am medication free and I dream. Anorexia has found a way to follow me there too. There is no escape.
I’m not sure what I am doing anymore. I have an assessment next week for mental health care and I do not want it. I am not prepared to be a patient again. I am not prepared to allow someone else to have that much access to my head when there is nothing they can do. I am closing up and if I was scared by it then that would be one thing. That would indicate some hope. But I am not scared. I am just tired.
I hope your day has been good to you.