It’s been almost 3 months now since I handed in my notice and moved down to Cheltenham because my health was so bad I simply couldn’t go on as I was. I think the last time I updated you on my health was after a bad Sunday at church and since then it’s just been book reviews. I’ve just been pushing things down and out as much as possible because there’s so much on my mind.
I’m getting married in 74 days – that should be exciting.
I have a job that’s 14 hours a week – compared to what I used to work that’s nothing, that should help.
I’m living with Jack – if that doesn’t make me happy then nothing will.
Here’s the problem…
I’m not happy.
Things aren’t ‘good’, or ‘fine’ or ‘okay’. It’s not even that I’m not happy. I’m simply not okay.
I am so tired. I have written about my fatigue before and it isn’t any better. I had to cancel plans with friends today because I just wasn’t well enough to make it out the house, yet I managed to get myself to McDonald’s to have an unhealthy binge that resulted in me coming back and having a total spiral. But my eyes are tired all the time. My body feels heavy. I wake up tired, I move around tired, and I go to sleep tired. It’s no wonder I haven’t the energy to write on here very often.
You see, my problem is the combination of things that are wrong with. The fatigue. The anxiety. The depression. The eating disorder. The physical pain that comes from slipped disc/sprained ankle/bad knee (that one’s relatively new). I feel like Rasputin in Anastasia (film) sometimes…
“in the dark of the night I was tossing and turning, and the nightmare I had was as bad as can be. It scared me out of my wits. A corpse falling to bits, and I opened my eyes and the nightmare was me.”
That’s what I feel like. I’m so broken and burdened with everything that I despise myself with such a passion – I’m my own nightmare. I had a kid at work tell his mother how he could ‘see all my fat’ the other day… I mean, I don’t actually have a uniform at work yet and I’ve worked hard and had to buy new clothes that I can’t afford in able to be able to dress according to their dress code, and I’ve really made an effort to look smart despite the fact that half my clothes are too big and half are too small (nothing ever seems to fit my size/shape). And this kid just stood their pointing, telling me he could see all my fat, and when his mum called him out on it he said, ‘yeah but mum, seriously, just look at her’. That wasn’t great for my confidence I have to say and no amount of smart comebacks that you can tell me I should think or say will change the fact that he was right. I am fat. I hate my body. I hate that I can’t bend down properly because it hurts too much in various places. I hate that I can’t walk very far or run anymore. There is not a single part of my body that I like and I didn’t need some kid to point that out.
My eating is really bad. It’s hard to have a binge eating disorder because I don’t think they’re very well understood. Anorexia gets a lot of press and I’m not undermining it, but binge eating isn’t life threatening and so is often ignored and certainly doesn’t receive the attention it needs to. Long term, it’ll cause a lot of problems but in the short term, it’s not doing me any immediate harm. Except I can’t stop eating. And then, when I’m done, I go home and I look at my body and I want to cut most of it off… my arms, my legs, my big fat tummy that a kid was so shocked by he pointed it out… I just want my body to go away.
Then the anxiety starts. I caused this, this is all I deserve. I tried to write in my journal for the first time since moving to Cheltenham tonight, and all it has is a big hole through the three pages I wrote because it all got too stressful. I feel sick all the time.
And where’s my faith? That thing that I’m supposed to cling to? I don’t even know if I have that anymore. My faith in the church has been gradually diminished over the years – from my university church that didn’t notice when I stopped attending for three months because of hand, foot and mouth disease/scarlet fever at the same time, to my current one where apart from one couple who regularly checks in on me and Jack, not a single person has tried to make me feel a part of their community… I was lying here earlier tonight, Jack’s away at work, and I realised that despite attending this church for 3 months, there was not a single person I could call to come round to help me. My belief in God is dwindling as well. And that’s scary for me. He’s always been the rock I hold onto, but the longer I feel like this the less I can believe that he gives a toss.
Then, of course, there’s the constant depression. The sadness no one can explain. The black cloud I live under that also grows inside me, building in my chest until I can’t breathe. Or maybe I just don’t want to take my next breath. I don’t even know the difference anymore.
I grip onto my love for Jack like it’s the only thing keeping me afloat. I picture his face if I went through with the things in my head. From the minute he’s gone to the minute he gets back I am scared and alone but I hold onto the fact that he loves me and everything that he is doing to support me. He is working 2 jobs. We are living on a very tight budget. He is planning a wedding. He manages the household chores, the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, the food preparation, the washing… without him I’d be living in a pit. He’s my rock and I couldn’t do this without him.
I just wish I could make it easier for him, but how can I when I can’t even make it easier for myself?
I literally transformed my life style… left my job, the place I lived and have changed everything about the way I was living my life.
What if the changes I’ve made aren’t enough? What do I do then?