Was just sitting watching a movie with my boyfriend, his brother and a friend. Trying to ignore the horrible stomach cramps and nausea. Being an emetophobe means this is my worst nightmare. My mind starts running over everything I have eaten, who I have been contact with, did I wash my hands enough before eating or touching my mouth, am I really feeling sick or is it anxiety, and so on and so forth.
I have eaten, what I feel is, a lot today. Mostly because I was trying to make myself eat a bit more as the last 3 days I have been so active and eaten so little that My Fitness Pal tells me I am in the negative as far as calories are concerned. My week has looked like this:
Monday – 858 calories, an hour and a half of yoga, some walking around and some office type work
Tuesday – 958 calories, an hour of yoga, half an hour walking, some more office work
Wednesday – 659 calories, 60 minutes of walking around and working, 4 hours of hard office work
Thursday – 621 calories, 30 minutes yoga, 30 minutes walking, some work
Friday – 755 calories, 60 minutes walking in total, 3 hours work
Saturday – 985 calories, 4 hours walking, 15 minutes of yoga (core strength, plank, head stand), sex
Sunday – 548 calories, 60 minutes walking (strolling around a market, shopping for food)
You know what scares me the most, is when I start thinking of sex in terms of how many calories I can burn. That really highlights how twisted my head is right now.
Today I have eaten:
half a cup of cereal with half a cup of warm milk and a tbsp of strawberry yoghurt, a cup chamomile and rooibos tea
a bite of a flapjack and two teaspoons marmalade
2 chocolate Turkish delight squares
a cup of hot water
half a piece of hake from Woolworths, half a cup of veg (broccoli, cauliflower and carrots), 1/4 cup homemade cheese sauce (this nibbled over 2 hours as my stomach can’t handle much at one go), half a cup of hot water
hot chocolate and 4 chips
I feel SO full and bloated. My stomach feels like it wants to pop. My throat is tight and I can feel gurgling and spasms. I keep berating myself for eating those chips after the hot chocolate. My body feels dirty. I realized the other day that I feel dirty when I have food in my stomach. On Thursday when I ate very little I felt cleaner, and my body did things in yoga that I normally struggle with. I view food as poison. I blame my fear of vomiting as well as my IBS/sensitive digestive system for this. I often feel food does me more harm than good. Logically I could say I know this is rubbish but right now I fully believe that food causes most of my health problems.
I just made myself a cup of hot water. I have discovered the magic that it is. It makes me feel warm (something I don’t feel very often any more) and it calms my stomach and head down. I also just took an anti nausea tablet as I couldn’t take the queasiness (real or perceived) anymore. I am so tired. And I want to go run or scream or smash my fist into something. I want to feel pain or stretch out in yoga to feel my body work, to quiet my mind that just won’t fucking stop!! I need help. I don’t know how to stop this; I feel like I’m being pushed over by a huge black tidal wave. The two sides of me fighting daily keeps me exhausted and makes me feel insane. Ana shouting horrible things and my logical mind trying to counteract them. But my logical mind is a lot quieter at the moment. I keep thinking I should check myself back into the clinic but that would be weakness, would mean giving up and taking the easy way out. Everyone would just think I am using it as an escape route instead of being strong and just making the choice to not give in to this. How can I explain that it doesn’t feel like a choice anymore! I feel so stuck 😦 I want help but I don’t. If I plead for help then I am weak but if I continue like this I am doing it to myself. Either way I am to blame and I am making all the wrong choices here.
My mum said to me the other night that I keep myself sick to escape life and not face up to things (the easy way out), and because I like the attention. And she is right, for the most part being sick keeps me from having to face the unsafe world full of nasty people and disappointments. Staying sick means I don’t go out and absorb everyone else’s emotions, thoughts, feelings. It means I don’t have to feel overloaded and freaked out and stressed. I’m not sure about the attention, perhaps it’s a plea to be accepted even at my worst? Perhaps it is partly to feel loved. I don’t know. But either way, this, me being sick, is my own fault, and if I admit I need help I am just proving her right, that I made yet another bad choice and am opting out of responsibility. That I want attention. I also said something about the horrible bullying, even from my own father, when I was growing up and she said it was only a few incidents and that I see it all so negatively. I snapped inside. Okay a few sporadic incidents? Yes, link those all together over 20-odd years. Link my father sexually abusing my best friend when we were kids, my own mother being abused by the grandfather I had put on a pedestal my whole life because my dad was never there, my dad kicking holes in my doors, yelling that I had the devil in me, chasing me around the house with a video camera telling me he will film me to make me see how fucking ugly I am when I cry, me having to lock myself in the bathroom to escape his rage, him throwing things, my mum emotionally absent, having kids in school call me fat, fucking ugly, run away from me screaming about what a weirdo I am. My first crush shunning me in favour of the new tall, leggy blonde. Kids sniggering behind their hands, behind my back. A girl who bullied me for a year in middle school to the point where I was in tears every single day. The popular girls threatening me in the middle of the school field because one of ‘their’ boys started showing interest in me. Being called a loser because I spoke differently and wouldn’t drink alcohol at school or do drugs. Being told repeatedly to kill myself, or go jump. Having the school principal tell me and one of my bullies that we are immature children who need to grow up. Being raped. Being abused by a string of boyfriends (sexually and emotionally) and even one boyfriend and his mother calling me names and breaking me down. Numerous ‘best friends’ telling me to get fucked. Abandoning me. Or making me believe they were my friends only to share my secrets behind my back, to laugh at me. Being physically and verbally attacked in public by drug buddy of my ex boyfriend’s, the very same girl he cheated on me with. Being cheated on in nearly every relationship I have been in. Yes these are the negatives only. Yes there were positives, I’m not saying there weren’t. But being so sensitive to energy and emotion, even my happiest childhood memories feel heavy with emotions that weren’t my own.
When my mum said those things the other night I felt completely invalidated and to be honest, totally mental. Am I making this all up? Is my mind really that fucked? I really don’t trust my head anymore. My view of my life is not reality. I don’t know who I am or who I was because my view of my life isn’t real. My illnesses aren’t real.
What is real??