soaking

in the tub. with my cell. with bubbles and epsom salt. with hot and hoefully healing waters.

in my self-hatred and concern. about my skills set and capabilities. about if my creativity is even alive anymore. about my cage called “a body”.

in my longing. for the sun. to be outside. to have a group of friends. to host shindigs. to have a home again.

in my fear. of my personal future. of what this president is doing to the whole world. of my career. of never being happy again. of being stuck in this state.

in hopelessness. because nothing will  change soon enough. because I will never like, much less love, myself. because I will never truly write again.

in the tub. with cold water now. without anymore bubbles or full grains of salt. without any sense of peace that this was supposed to give me.

soaking.

Advertisements

but does it really?

so that post about every little thing mattering….. ugh. foot in mouth.

I’m walking the up and down the stairwell in my apartment complex because I can’t bring myself to go to the gym. I am weak and tired; and my current issue is my shame for being weak and tired.

I couldn’t even get into gym clothes without just bawling. so Brian told me to walk around the complex in whatever I am in (work clothes). better than not moving at all, right?

I can’t bring myself to go out of the stairwell and into the hallway. what if there’s a person? I can’t be around people right now.

so I’m hiding in the stairwell. but I’m walking. up, up, down, down. up, up, down, down.

better than nothing, right? every little bit matters?

fuck ups

well. I royally fucked up the other night. I cut a lot. and they’re neither shallow nor discrete. and I fly home tomorrow. at least it”s winter, so I can get away with long sleeves.

still no job. so when I get back, I will probably have to get a temporary retail job. blah.

well, I guess that’s all for now. ::shrugs::

current EDNOS issues

so I posted in DreamWidth and LiveJournal in June 2013 about my ED history.  then here, on Sep 22nd, I re-posted that entry.  someone asked me how accurate that was to now.  and I gave a vague answer.

well, it’s time to be honest.

 

My Current EDNOS Struggles

right away: alcoholism.  I can tell you that my drinking is the only thing keeping me “fat” (or larger, I should say).  I eat low-carb, I don’t do sodas, I’m a veggie-fiend, I eat fruits moderately, I keep a semi-low caloric intake, I have a higher caloric out-put.  it’s really just all the alcohol.

so whereas in the past I was drinking less forsake of eating less, now I’m drinking less and eating less.

in the last two-and-a-half weeks, I’ve had all of this happen to me:  semi-long menstruation, urinary tract infection, kidney infection, stomach virus via food poisoning, severe diarrhea from antibiotics, extreme side effects from getting back on my meds, losing many responsibilities (that I enjoyed!) at my job, hearing truths that my beau will be jobless and have no PhD by the end of the year, suicidal idealizations, and a few other things I cannot shall not mention.

suffice it to say, I was struggling.  and when I struggle, for whatever reason, I stop eating.  and I did.  in four days, I consumed less than two meals.

and from 170+ lbs, I’m now at 165.  five pounds in three weeks may not be much.  but when I’ve been battling for months to lose even two, this is a great accomplishment.  my body fat percentage has even gone down from 38+ to 35.  this is great!  this is encouraging!

this is bad.  because the act that caused all this was starvation, occasional alcohol, and cutting.

so here we are, October 2014.  starting this cycle all over again.

I’m looking at fitspo and thinspo again.  I’m using my semi-secret username to visit SI and pro-ana blogs.  I’m really breaking myself apart, while trying to put myself together.

moreover, I have even less hope than I did before to get fit.  in fact, I have none.

I’m only trying still because I know when I stop, I’ll just stop everything; I’ll stop living.

 

in the meantime, here’s where you can follow my Fight:  NerdFitness blogFitBit  MyFitnessPal  Fitocracy ♠ RunKeeper  Zombies, Run!

my not-so-secret EDNOS blog?  yeah, you’ll have to look for that one….

wtf was wrong w my brain??

so this was something I wrote in Jan 2010, about two weeks before I started dating Brian:

Distortions

protected NSFW Wed, Jul. 7th, 2010 14:52

jtggodqos: (misc: stairs)

[personal profile] jtggodqos

when movies and plays make thunder, they get that strip of tin or such and start wiggling it back and fourth. sometimes that’s what everything looks like. it’s a dancing reflection from a funhouse mirror. and speckles. those speckles are there. they’re both black and white. like the noise from a static tele. they too are dancing around, distorting your vision. as if you couldn’t See things clearly enough, now your literal sight was malfunctioning. meanwhile, the ground moves forward beneath you, while your feet and legs remain still. it’s as if you were in a gerbil ball that’s being pushed backwards by an outside force. everything rolls from up under you, and you start taking steps backwards in attempts to keep your balance.

but suddenly, the floor stops moving, the room stops turning, and everything stops wobbling and speckling. now it’s just your own legs and feet and eyes that are jolting around. they hadn’t stopped yet from when they were attempting to make sense of everything else. you so you lose your balance. you lean over and grip onto the bed tightly, as now your body itself begins wobbling. whatever Distortion that existed outside your body in Reality is now creeping into you. it planted itself in your feet and eyes first. and now that it’s got a grip on you, its entering in via your open mouth that’s gasping for air, into your ears (so that’s why you can’t hear anything but a high-pitch buzzing right now), and into your fingers that are digging further into the bed. and you begin falling forward into the bed now. you fight it, locking your elbows tightly, preventing whatever gave you that push from behind from winning. but it’s difficult. it’s like loosing your balance at the edge of a pool when someone gruffly tapped your shoulder. and the scariest part isn’t not knowing who tapped you, but it’s knowing that you can’t swim. but hey, at least the room stopped moving, right? it’s all just you now.

eventually, it all stops. your elbows keep tight enough, you closed your mouth soon enough, and you kept your eyes open to make sure everything was leaving. your body stops wobbling, your head stops floating, and your ears stop screaming. now you’re just exhausted, dizzy. and you think to yourself about how pointless that battle was. because you had already been Distorted today. when you first woke up, you were too long. your hands fell off the top of the bed and onto the floor, and your feet continued on farther than you could see. you body had been dragged outward. even now, sitting at the keyboard, your long fingers are jabbing at keys they’re not supposed to, because they don’t know what to with their extra length. your monkey toes curl and grip at the legs of the chair. you know that if you wanted to, your toes alone could pull the chair out from under your butt. and your abdomen. it has not gotten longer and thinner like your appendages. rather, it’s just increased in size. the bulge of your belly still exists, flopping down over the top rim of your shorts. but at least the flab that normally hangs down beneath your underarms is stretched out today. that’s nice.

and your head is light, empty almost. and all things are thin and fluffy, except your body (with the exception of your hallow skull). and when you walk, someone keeps tapping you. and you know that their tapping shouldn’t be enough to make you lose your balance, but it does. and you get frustrated. because all you wanted was a bottle of water. but it’s a struggling to walk to the kitchen and back again. because someone keeps poking you, and because it’s throwing you off balance. and your little toe stubs into something and you curse. your mother chuckles, because you’re clumsy anway. so you just write it off to her as that: sure, I’m just clumsy. but you know the truth: someone is pushing me. and they need to stop, because it’s difficult for you to walk. but more than anything else, it’s horribly annoying.

you eventually make it back to your room and sit down in your chair. you have work to do. thankfully, it doesn’t require much effort. because most of your effort is going to fighting off that Pusher. yes, it’s not tapping anymore. it’s starting to push. because while sitting in your chair, you feel a lean to the right. you accidentally overcompensate and fall slightly to your left. shaking your head and chuckling (because this whole ordeal really is considerably comical), you right yourself and take in a deep, determined breathe. just as you’re about to begin, the Pusher makes a noise from behind. you zip your around head to see where he’s at, but you’re apparently too slow, because you missed him. your toe starts hurting again. and then you’re where you are now.