AtypicallyRecovering

Since things got worse during the week of Halloween when I had 4 appointments (a lot for me), with the resulting and ongoing increase in physical pain, eating got really bad. It hurt too much to cook (in a kitchen without a lot of space at the moment), and eating seemed like more of a crime than a way to stay alive. And that last part is becoming the bigger battle. While I don’t want to do anything to myself, I pray that I won’t wake up. I don’t know why I’m still here. I’ve been disabled for 20 years- I’m not worth anything in any meaningful way.

I’ve been dealing with this shit for more than 50 years, and for 43+ as someone who had been diagnosed with anorexia in 1981. I was actively restricting on my own, and at the hands of my parents, for a longer period of time than that. I’m SO tired. I am getting help, but when things got bad with pain that week of Halloween and early November, something happened in my head. I started losing hope. Add to that, the ‘natural’ degradation of mental functioning with restriction (which was already very well established), and I’m more of a mess than usual.

I have times, usually in the evening, when I feel like I’m not well in a very real, physical sense – and it’s terrifying. But it’s even more terrifying to consider going to a hospital where I can almost hear “nut job” and “looney tunes” from the hypothetical hospital staff (I’ve been treated very poorly at that place in the past- though admittedly, they’ve been MUCH better than they were in the early 2000s when physically, the seizures and dysautonomia were a huge issue (still are), and my boss would send my to the ER by ambulance. They hated me at that ER, and it showed, even though I never asked for anything. I didn’t want to be there, either !! But now, if I need help, I’m not likely to go look for it eagerly. If anything, it scares me to death- if it only would for real.

But, if I aim for anything besides 2 8 oz lowfat kefirs and 2 bottles of 15gm protein water (no sugar or fats), it’s more than I can do now. A year ago, I was getting to the kitchen regularly, and while I didn’t want to eat, I could make it work well ‘enough’. Now, it’s a shitshow. And, I’m scared. I’m hanging on to whatever I can just to suck air, and I resent it.