I’m a few days behind in my reader and posts tend to get lost in my reader after a few days and coz it’s shabbat soon I will be even more behind by the time Sunday comes along.
The past few days I’ve been finding it easier to eat. That terrifies me. Happens to be I haven’t eaten way too much today but because I’ve been eating normally it feels like I have. Yesterday I ate a ‘normal’ amount. First time in 3 months. That freaked me out. I’m proud of myself. I didn’t purge. I distracted myself by writing cards and then on instagram.
Today I’ve been eating too. Just, eating. No calorie counting. No thoughts. And, and I can’t. I can’t let it go.
I chose life again.
Those who’ve actually been following my blog know that a few weeks ago I chose life over destruction. My friend had scared me when she told me she wasn’t sure I’d get her post. It was sobering. I hadn’t realised just how close to death I was. I spent the night after that planning letters to people and the next day chose life. Not sure what posts they were. I chose to believe in Hope then. Hope as an entity which is why I’ve capitalised it. Wrote that in a dialogue post. Hope in possibility.
I chose life a couple days ago. Rechose, recommitted, to life. I don’t know if I actually thought that I was choosing it. I did write something explaining why, but not on this blog. So life, here goes. And the past couple days after I’ve been consciously choosing to take less cocodamol than I want to each time. If I want 6 I’ll take 5. The numbers ate arbitrary anyways. And I’ve only bought enough for another day as I only went to a couple pharmacies. I’m not ready to stop using. But, it seems like a possibility. It feels as though I’m coming to that place where I’ll be ready to stop using.
The past couple days I’ve stayed with reality. Reality of too much. Reality of not knowing what to do with myself. And I’ve eaten more. I’m choosing not to write numbers on this blog. More means just more normally.
It’s positive. And it’s terrifying.
And if I don’t get help to deal with everything behind it then even if I stop it’s a waste of time.
I’m scared of letting go. I’m scared of giving up control.
I’m also seeing that there’s change from a few months ago. It’s for another post. But it’s weird. Weird because a few months ago my actions were okay. And today I’m ODing daily (that NHS therapist called an ambulance on me when I had taken between a third and 6th of what I’ve been taking daily since then). I’m eating now between half and a third what fitness pal tells me I should if I want to lose weight. My actions were okay then. Yet I see change. In some ways I think messing up has given me the space to learn and process. Destroying myself is calming a part of me that lets other parts be. Lets other parts grow.
Even if I’m eating the same calories I’m eating cake and sugar now. Which is good. Really good.
I’m scared. I’m terrified. I’m also seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m grateful to those of you who’ve been here. I’ve told you thank you so many times! I really appreciate it. You’re not getting anything back from me. I’m just about reading your blogs (those who are writing). Thank you.
And I’ve gotta go. I didn’t know where writing this would take me. It isn’t what I planned on.
GP – haven’t gotten through. He hasn’t done anything.
MBSR- fell asleep during it. Blush and hide.
ACA- not done enough. Should be in touch with others.
And I’ve a list of questions for a professional re boundaries and responsibilities when I can.
Thank you for reading and being here.