On A Sinking Ship…

Do you ever feel like you are on a sinking ship? One where you really have three options:

1. Jump Ship.

2. Wait for help to arrive, if they arrive, and force you off the ship.

3. Go down with the ship.

That’s where I feel like I am. I’m on a sinking ship. I only have three options and the conditions the boat is in are getting worse. The storm is getting worse, the waves are getting bigger and I am getting further and further from shore.

If I jump ship now I risk drowning, not being rescued in time, or being overtaken by the storm anyway but without any protection from the ship. If I wait and jump ship later the storm may be worse, help still might not be close and I may still face the same fate as if I jump now. But if I jump now I’ll be closer to help, closer to the shore, the storm hasn’t gotten as bad as it may and I can choose what I am jumping overboard with and maybe give myself a better chance at survival than if I wait. If I wait too long however, I’ll go down with the ship when it sinks, dragged down by the mass of boat being sucked to the ocean’s floor by the forces of the storm. Jumping now is probably best but, I still have to find the courage to jump when every ounce of me is screaming to stay on the ship.

If I stay on the ship I may still have to jump ship later but if help arrives they’ll be there to force me off the ship. I’ll still have to jump in the water, leave the safety of the ship and struggle through the storm but someone will be there to see me to safety, make it more likely I survive the storm. But what if they arrive too late, what if they force me off the ship but I can’t be saved, what if I just take them down with me?

And then again I can stay with the ship. I can go down with the ship. The ship has kept me safe for so long and is all I know anymore, the only friend I have, the only protection I have. It has kept me both isolated but in company during the last few years. How am I  just supposed to abandon it? How am I supposed to just jump off, leave it behind?  What if I am not strong enough on my own to face the storm? What if help isn’t there because I am too far away, too far gone? What if I die anyway?

What do I choose?

I don’t know what to choose.

Crying for Help

I need help.

I need help.

I need help.

I can’t do this much longer. I don’t want to. I want out. I want OUT. I want HIM out of my head, I want to stop thinking about food all the time, stop being hungry, stop vomiting everything I eat, stop chewing and spitting, stop the cravings, stop the side effects. I want to STOP IT ALL.

I’ve been pacing through my kitchen and living room contemplating going home. Home to my mom’s to ask for help, to spill my guts, and pray to God someone takes this serious and knows what to do and how to get help.

But as I type this, the voice is coming back. The one telling me to keep quiet, that this is normal, that I NEED this and not food. I feel trapped. I feel so trapped.

I wish I could go for a run but I can’t because this damn aircast is stuck on me for at least 2 more weeks. I wish I could burn all the calories off my body, shrink and disappear. I hate this.

I hate this.

I hate this person I am trapped inside of.

I wish someone understood.

I wish someone knew.

Crying in Aisle 5

This isn’t a first but today I started crying in the middle of the grocery store. I shop primarily at the Super Target by my house and I was “okay” while I looked at jewelry, clothes, shoes, and housewares but as I was crossing from housewares to the food area I started to panic. I say I was “okay” before I reached the food section because I was still uncomfortable. I had eaten today and I feel like I ate a lot even though I didn’t eat a lot of calories and I can barely  look at myself in the mirror my face is so fat, my body is huge, my legs are gross and I feel like I quite literally weigh 300lbs. So yeah, I was just “okay”.

But then I got closer to the food section-mind you, I was just going for trash bags but of course, there is almost no food at my apartment so the idea that I should be there to buy food like the dozens of other folks kept running through and panicking my mind. I aimed for trash bags first, on a scale of 1-10, this was about a 4 as far as fear. It’s located near food. It’s like I could feel the temptation to buy food but at the same time I could hear the louder “don’t buy it” voice.

To get to checkout and out of the store I had to then walk past all the other aisles of food. Bad food. I tried to go down one of the aisles to try and find something that was safe or that was possibly safe but when I got to aisle the panic was full blown. Food is bad, not good, bad. It is terrible. And honestly, I can’t believe that people actually eat and don’t experience (a) pain, (b) nausea, (c) purging after. I just can’t. That’s my current life, it has been my life for a few years and it has become normal.

So as I stood there in the aisle I went to grab something that I have eaten on occasion, often when I am in the middle of running season and need carbs, I went to grab Cheerios. Frickin Cheerios. I touched the box, pulled away, tried again and just couldn’t. It was like someone was inside of me scratching to the surface, screaming that eating wasn’t and isn’t allowed, telling me it was bad, that I need to protect myself that I am not hungry and that when people say they ate, they lie.

And then, the tears started.

It wasn’t like the flood gates opened and I was hysterical but I was in the middle of the Super Target crying. Staring at Cheerios, crying. I’m not sure if it was out of disappointment, fear, hate, anxiety or what but it was just too much. I got my wristlet, phone and keys and I nearly ran out of the store. No trash bags, no food, nothing. And even if I semi-think it’s normal not to eat. I know crying in the middle of the grocery store is not.

I cried in the car, I cried on the way home, I cried when I got inside my house. But you know what, I still feel guilty because I ate earlier. I feel guilty that I THOUGHT about buying food. I feel guilty about it all.

I ended up looking up the “recommended daily caloric intake” for both the US and Canada. I chose Canada too b/c quite frankly I figured the US would be wayyy off base and would overestimate what people need- hence, the obesity rate. Canada says for a sedentary 20-something you need 1900 calories a day. 1900!?!?!? I haven’t come close to 1900 in years. I am also not sedentary. But that just makes me feel worse because I have not been losing weight, I feel fat as a damn hippo and I still fear the return of the pain that started this whole thing.

So, I am back to crying in the grocery store.