I’m in a horrible place today. I know it’s due to food restriction (more than I ever have before), for the most part, but fuck if this week hasn’t been one of the worst I’ve ever had. And not because anything drastic or stressful happened, but simply because I didn’t want to be awake to get through it.
If I didn’t have two nights off where my husband was out of town, I think I would have gone crazy.
It’s to the point where I can’t even sleep in the same room as my husband anymore. Not because I don’t want to, but I find I fall asleep much faster when I’m by myself. My thoughts are so loud and obnoxious at night that I get irritated, and being around other people when I’m irritated just makes it worse.
I have a four hour work day today, and I just want to sit here and veg. I could get away with it, but I feel obligated to be social with my receptionist (it’s literally just us in the building, every day. We are the only two employees at this site). The thought of making an effort to talk with her, or spend time with her, makes me want to just leave.
I have so much anger today at the stupidest things. My husband may or may not be staying out of town tonight, and I’m hoping he does, just so I can skip one more night of the “how was your day today” conversations that we do every night.
We try to make efforts with each other, but his usual goal is sex and my usual goal is intimacy. I tried lying with him last night, and he lifted up my shirt. I said, vehemently, “I’m not lying with you to have sex. I’m lying with you so I can spend time with you.” Later in the evening, when he said he wanted me to lie with him again, I told him no, because I knew he would eventually just want sex.
I’m so fucking tired of being sexual, and I get so resentful when something as innocent as a fucking hug has to turn him into a stupid caveman. Like, are men really that fucking hardwired? I understand that I “deprive” him of sex. We haven’t had “real” intercourse in a couple of weeks. But my idea of re-connecting has more to do with emotion rather than being physical, and unfortunately, as much as he says he’s on the same page as me, he’s not.
And in a last attempt to validate my illness, in a moment of pathetic weakness at one in the morning, I ended up contacting my psychiatrist from Rader. His response was brief and vague and pretty much just stated if I am in the state to even message him, I have a problem. He knows saying too much would just feed the disorder, and he was very good at being smart and not letting me manipulate him into saying what I wanted to hear. I guess that’s why he’s one of the best.
I can’t wait for this fucking week to be over. The only good thing I’ve experienced is the weight loss. Instead of being eight pounds heavier than my lowest weight, I’m now only four.