I am sorry for the lack of posts on this blog recently. I really am.
Mostly because the reason behind it is that I have nothing I want to share right now. Nothing I can say or tell you that will make either of us do or feel any better. I am in a really not so amazing place at the moment, and both my body, my soul, my heart, my brain and my health seem sick. Dysfunctional. Broken.
For more than a week now I’ve not wanted to do anything but curl up in a ball under the warm blankets in my freezing bedroom and sleep. Escape into my head; my dreamworld. The opposite has been the case; the past week has excisted of nothing but social obligations and secret binges, leaving me even more shattered than I already was after coming home from my other home.
My body, my soul, my heart, my brain, my health. All off them are drained. Exhausted.
New Years is only two days away, and I’m (obligatory) hosting. I don’t even want to be part of a celebration right now, let alone host. I had an 11hr non-stop, full-on, all-out binge today, which included me going to the supermarket to buy more foor (first time ever, I normally just finish everything and anything I have around the house). I am in so much pain right now. So, so much pain. Again, physically, mentally, spiritually; it all hurts like never before
I can’t believe this has been my life for two years now; two years of half-assed, chaotic recovery. Three years of misery, if you count one year extra for being ill. Three years and here I am, rocking back and forth on the floor with the laptop on the couch because my back and belly hurt too much to sit or stand, or lie or walk or do anything for that matter. Three fucking years, and here I am.
It hurts to realize that I cannot seem to get myself together. Not in a normal, day-to-day setting that is. Not at home, with cupboards. That I only live and thrive and functions when I’m semi-hobo, away from a stash of food, on the go and on the loose. That I can only be free when there’s no strings attached; no escapes into food. When I am busy with living instead of having life play catch with me. It hurts that I have flashes of this throughout my life, flashes of living and happiness, but it disappears instantly when I re-ground at home-base. It is not home-base that does it; I love my family, my friends, my dog, my house, my country. I just cannot function in the setting I deem as normal; alone, at home, in a house with a kitchen filled with demons. How can I possibly call myself an adult, 24 years for Gods sake, when I cannot live a life that involves cupboards. Cupboards, for crying out loud! I’m not talking of demons of the past, people that trigger memories. I am not talking of physical barriers hinder me. My demons are pantries. Cupboards.
Food itself is not my demon. I have no problem eating, most days. I don’t do diets, I don’t do vegan, raw, glutenfree, dairyfree, carbfree, proteinplus or whatever. I eat food and I’m fine with that, I don’t care, I can enjoy it, and sometimes not. I can eat in any setting, nothing is fearful. Neither is any product; I dont have one single fearfood. And yet, what takes the living out of me is just that; food. It’s just not the food itself, as it is having it ‘lying around’. Waiting for weak moments, of whatever kind. Of boredom or soredom. Food luring and lurking. Food hidden from sight, yet always in my mind. How can I possibly change this around to let me take my life back, as it isn’t exactly optional to leave out. “Ill just never have food in my house to eat, ever. Ill just ask random people on the street to spare me some leftovers”. How the fuck can I live a normal life with these easily identified demons haunting me every minute I’m home bound?
I wan’t a new year, as it symbolizes a fresh start. But I don’t want a new year at all either, because I cannot do this anymore.
I am just so, so exhausted