To say that I’m struggling would be an understatement. I’m flailing. Rather wildly. I don’t quite know what’s wrong, or how to fix it. I’m overwhelmed by the uncertainty of the coming months. There is a deep sense of loss over what I am leaving behind here in New York. There is the oh-so-seductive urge to self-destruct completely. Because that solves everything. Obviously.
I want, so desperately, for things to be different. I am learning (slowly!) that what I really want is for ME to be different. I want to be “normal”, whatever that means. I want to be able to choose where I live, to have a job I am good at/that I enjoy, to be free from this obsession with food/weight/exercise. I want to go out with friends and not worry about what they are thinking about me, where we will go, what we will eat. I want to make plans with people without having to get up at 4am so that I have time to squeeze in my mandatory walking hours so that I “earn” the right to relax and have fun. I want freedom. I want to be peaceful.
All the things that I do to manage my anxiety/depression are making things worse and taking me further and further away from the things I want. The more despairing I feel about where I am going to live, work, etc, the more weight I lose, and the more weight I lose, the more things spiral out of control.
I say that I am trying to get a grip on things. That is partly true. I am trying to get a grip on the feelings that drive my behaviour. I am trying to get a grip on the urges to lash out at myself. I say I am trying, but my definition of trying is to choose the lesser of two evils- should I walk 12 miles or take a handful of sleeping pills? Should I skip lunch or should I walk in front of a car?
I justify my actions because obviously I am making the “healthier” choice. Healthier, yet not healthy.
Should I just suck it up, follow my meal plan, exercise a normal amount, do my therapy homework and hope that somewhere along the line I acquire the desire to actually take care of myself? Be…*gasps* self-sufficient? How dull. How self-indulgent. I can’t do that. I don’t know HOW. I can do it when I am locked up in a treatment center, but can’t quite bring myself to save MYSELF from MYSELF. After so much therapy/treatment, I should have answers by now. I have yet to see/hear/read anything that makes it seem a more doable task.
How did this get so damn complicated?
People think I have yet to recover because I don’t want it enough. They are wrong. I want it enough. I just don’t think I am capable of it, or deserving of it. I don’t know how to function like a non-eating disordered person. I don’t know how to deal with the mood swings, depression and anxiety that my behaviour keeps a handle on. I don’t know how to live…or if I even want to.