Thursday, 3 April 2014

Pissing about.

I've been pissing about a bit lately. I'm not fighting as hard as I should, I'm not taking the lead when I should, and I'm generally just letting the skeleton have its day. I always expect that should I agree to her (I hate the personification of eating disorders as 'ana' or 'mia'- it's revoltingly cutesie for something that kills. I'm doing it here purely to describe the hallucination), she should be nicer to me. But then the demands get greater and the reprisals worse and it's getting really out of control.

I suppose, as governments always say, you can't reason with a terrorist and Anorexia is that ticking bomb unwittingly chained to my chest. The damage it does is, to a point, up to me. I am the terrorist, the one full of hatred and anger, even if it is just self-directed and I'd not deliberately hurt a fly, although I know this is hurting so many people, besides myself. I'm infuriating; it's me who needs to express the situation, and it's me who needs to make sure that if it should go off, there aren't too many people around to get injured. The latter is something I've been subconsciously working on. I'm mostly keeping myself to myself and pushing people away, and the former I'm attempting, but not very successfully or with all the power I ought to. I've lost a lot to this disorder- most notably, right now, my physical and mental freedom- and you'd think that would make the fight easier. Instead though, it feels like it's just making it tighten its grip; the code for the bomb changes constantly and my head is a mess with trying to work it all out. Sometimes, I think I've almost got it. Then, out of nowhere, it all changes and I'm in deeper than ever. I need to make it stop. And I'm lonely. I'm really bloody lonely.

Like I said though, although I don't take the lead as often as I should, it's not entirely down to me, because of being in a hospital setting, where free-falling shouldn't be much of an option, definitely not the ideal. I need to commit to letting people help, and stop fighting when things don't go exactly to plan. It's so easy to type though, and so different in reality. I mean, I had to come out of a group today because we were planting herbs and I got freaked out because herbs are so linked to food. No reason for a freak out, they were bloody seeds for a virtually calorie-less adornment, but there you go. I'm so logical and insightful until a food situation arises and I suddenly develop petulance and a generally horrible attitude.

Every relapse gets worse, mentally, because I'm so angry that it's another fall I've allowed myself, and indulging the whims of what feels like a different entity makes me feel so powerless. I'm scared and everything hurts and I'm just sick of this shit. I just can't seem to take even the smallest step.

1 comment:

  1. Rebecca my heart aches for you... and yet I understand... I so wish I could really say what I wanted to wherever I wanted but I hold back...
    Part of me is too afraid to say it all...

    I really hope you let people help you, we all need a little help sometime.

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