11:33 a.m. - 2012-10-17
maybe it will get me in the end
All I want to do is sleep.
And I have been sleeping all I can for an unconscionably long time.
At first I thought I was making up for June-July, when I had to much school and two kids and no time to sleep.
Then I thought I was making up for the two years after Matt moved out that I didn't sleep at all a lot of nights, and slept on the couch or the floor other nights, because I didn't want to sleep in that bed and I didn't want to face the emptiness that came when I wasn't doing anything distracting anymore and all I could see in me and my life was disappointment, loss, lonlinesss and emptiness.
Now I think I am just lazy or sick, possibly both but I am leaning toward the latter. I think there may be something wrong with me. My immediate assumption is that my food habits are, well, to put it in the most positive light possible, utterly fucked right now. Ie totally disordered. I decided I had gained too much weight a couple months ago and decided to get back down to 100 pounds (just 2.5 pounds south of the anorexia Mason-Dixon line, nothing scary, right? Considering that it was only about 7 pounds I needed to lose) and I have done it and woo-hoo for me (that's sarcasm). Now I feel like a bowl of jello and way too tired to even shower in the morning if I don't feel like I absolutely have to.
Worst of all, I am a lousy mother. I have no energy at all to take care of my kids. This has been going on for a while and it is time to make another stab at eating semi-normally, I guess. I am too old for my body to keep taking the same food abuse it's been taking for the past 17 years and be more or less unaffected.
I cracked (I think) a rib about three months ago (fell while repairing the kitchen ceiling) and while it is only supposed to take six weeks for a rib fracture to heal it still hurts. I didn't go to the doctor because I figured whether or not it its broken, wtf are they going to do besides charge me a lot of money and tell me not to move it or poke it more than necessary? Believe me, I was already doing that. I am (I think) the opposite of a hypochondriac, whatever that is. So now that my rib still hurts, and I am taking this A and P course, I start freaking out over all the various things that can go wrong with your body that have symptoms like weird pain and exhaustion.
My plan at the moment is just to try to improve my eating habits (fuck weighing 100 pounds) which needs doing anyway, and then maybe if I don't have more energy, THEN go to a doctor. It strikes me as a real nightmare to go to a doctor now, since most of my symptoms can be chalked up to either, say, cancer, or just the eating disorder I've had for 20 fucking years at this point.
Maybe I've been kidding myself to settle for "better" -- continuously better -- because "cured" is supposedly impossible and I certainly think it is -- and 100 lb is better than 70 and throwing up once or twice a week is better than every meal -- so I tell myself I'm more or less OK (and fuck it I eat ice cream and sugar and cream in my coffee and keep it down) and I have two kids I wasn't supposed to have and a functioning reproductive system and I am quite alive although my immediate death was predicted for years -- I feel immortal because of that, I suppose.
Now, I guess it is occurring to me that maybe the eating disorder, as relatively mild as it seems now, may eventually kill me anyway -- or it will mask the symptoms of something else that will kill me that I won't notice until it's too late, because I'm so accustomed to feeling like shit.
Not to mention that my kids will hate me.
If there was a "no more eating disorder" button I could push, I would push it.
The Renfrew Center should really take a cue from Staples.
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