It's 9 am. and I'm in the bathroom of my workplace vomiting into a trash can for the second time. I heave and heave, but it's only bile and coffee, while my head is pounding and thumping like a sledgehammer and with every hurl and heave it hurts even more.
This feels like a new low for me as I stare at the dirty tile floor at my feet, questioning the direction of my life, questioning my purpose and why I'm even working at this place where I have no true purpose or passion for.
The room is spinning, and my ears are ringing, I'm dehydrated, I'm sleep deprived, and I wanna go home.
I walk out feeling like a zombie.
My manager takes one look at me when I finally come out and says, "Dude, you look like shit. You're really pale, come on, let me drive you home. "
I agree, but only because it's 90° f, and I feel like I will fall into a bush trying to make it home.
I'm not pregnant. Apparently, it's called stress vomiting....
Add on the stress headache, and I'm as miserable as I can be.
This isn't the first time either, probably the third time this week, it's normally brought on by insomnia and stress. Which gives me more stress cause I need my body to function in order to work... I need to work to make money, I need to work out to feel OK, I need to work so I don't have to think... I don't want to have to think. Maybe if I work enough it will put me into a coma and I won't ever have to think...or feel..
My manager drops me off and says, "You really need to get your shit together, man."
I thank her, feeling relieved to be home, yet her comment irritates me.
Like what the fuck does she think I'm doing? I didn't ask for this...
I didn't ask for any of the fucked up shit in my life to happen...
I start to feel sorry for myself but then snap out of it....
I'm not a victim of my life damnit....
I'm not a victim... I will overcome this and end up victorious...
I repeat it like a mantra as I go up the stairs and into my bed and sob like a baby...
Then to the bathroom to puke again.
It's the worst headache and stomachache I've had in my life, and every time I move, it hurts more, so I fall asleep... I sleep for 4 hrs wake up and cry cause it still hurts, my heart more than my body....
I have one vivd dream after another feeling like I'm in a whole other world and wake up feeling like I have a whole other life and was just on this grandiose journey and anything here on this planet is irrelevant and stupid.
The feeling fades, and the pain is still there, I try to distract myself by going through old poems I've written... realizing that I've been creating self-fulfilling prophecies in every poem... It's actually almost comical.... almost.
Some make me cry... cause I'm already in that kind of mood.
I decided to record a spoken one and can't, the first or second time... I'm choking up...
The third try is what I decide on, even if it sucks.
I had this notion that if I post every day, it would be good for publicity for a possible book launch.
I had the notion that if I post everyday maybe it would help someone, maybe it would help me. I had the notion that if I posted everyday then at least I have control and can keep things consistent in my life for once....
I had the notion that if I posted everyday people would want to read my book, my possible book.
Possible.... because I'm beginning to doubt myself... I'm beginning to feel like I can't do it... like I don't have it in me to even care about it anymore... what if it doesn't turn out good... what if everyone hates it? What if I hate it?
I already hate thinking about it.
I go back to bed and dream of being in my bathroom, only its not my bathroom, i've never been in here before I say "this isn't my bathroom" and suddenly I'm in the shower and the curtain is wrapped around my neck and a shadow is choking me. I can physically feel it choking me, and I can't breathe.
I know I'm dreaming, then I say, "This isn't real." Then everything goes black, I wake up sweating and gasping for air, feeling my heart beat erratically.
Everything still hurts. Why is this happening to me?
I end up getting my phone to research what all this means...
I look up what dreams of showers mean; it means healing.
I look up what being strangled means; it means something or someone preventing you from something you're trying to achieve.
I look up what shadows mean; it can mean the dark side of ourselves.
Well...
I guess my subconscious is trying to work through some shit while I sleep.
I sleep for 10 more hours, and then it turns into 24 hours. I have not had food or water or been using any device or listened to any music...
When I wake up, I finally feel better and, for once in a long time, smile a genuine smile that I don't have to force for show.
I think I reset myself.
I don't get out of bed... instead, I lay there looking at my ceiling...
I feel better, but I also don't feel like doing anything out of fear of feeling pain again... physical and emotional.
This is nice, I think. Being alone with a better state of mind to reasonably think... that's a nice feeling.
I've heard of dopamine resets before. It's typically 48 hours, though.
So I decided to finish what my body was starting... it needed rest.
I think a lot during this time. However, it's not anxious, panicked thoughts, it's not remorseful thoughts. It's not thoughts of harming myself.
I think about God, my existence, the universe, what I actually believe, what I intend on looking up after this.
I think about past friendships, relationships, and family members that cut me off.
I think about the ones I need to cut off after this.
I think about all the times I've been heart broken and the times I've broken someone else's heart.
I think about my insecurities and doubts, and memories of living in the mountains.
I think about all the times I've actually said I love you to anyone...
Even my family... it's not often... I've always reserved that word.
I don't like to say it , I don't know why.
Even if I love the idea of love.
I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me, why am I so fucking weird? Why am I a magnet for chaos ?Why am I so bad at handing stress....
I begin to re-live every year of my eating disorder years.
The nights I went to bed hungry, the hours of exercising, the days of yelling at people who tried to give me food with a high calorie count. The times I've stolen something.... I stole a lot in those times, probably hundreds to thousands of dollars worth of stuff. I stole from people's houses too... mostly food, that I would hoard and never eat.
It was like I was living on survival mode constantly.
I think about relapsing....
I think about how much I hate my body now, how I feel too big, like my camera and mirror make me look smaller... like how the reflection in people's sun glasses make me look bigger, like how I look down at my thighs, and all I can think is how I want to chop of the extra fat.
I don't even know what I actually look like.
I think about how easy it would be to continue to not eat... for another 2 days ... what if I kept vomiting?
How much weight could I lose then?
I've already lost 5 in 2 weeks what if I lost 5 more? Or 10? Or 20? Or my goal weight would be if I lost 30 pounds?!
I stop thinking.
I don't want to relapse.
But I don't want to feel like this...
I think maybe that's why you can't get a man... cause you're fat and ugly and stupid and haven't accomplished anything in your life and are spending your entire day in bed or in the bathroom puking.
Good God, make it stop.
This is the hard part about being alone with my thoughts without distraction or stimulation or anything to make me feel good right away.
I'm forced to face my demons and work through them... fight them with logic and reasoning....
I am working through everything that has transpired this past June... that was the worst month of my life... and it's finally behind me.
My dad is coming home without cancer, and things are looking better...
I finally filed a restraining order and will have to deal with that at some point, but at least it gives me some hope, even though I probably won't ever feel completely safe again.
My friends have helped me through it all, and I'm thankful to have them.
My sister and mother yelled at me more times than I would like to admit, but that's just cause they care...
My dad has also yelled at me... My brother... My coworkers... Everyone has been yelling at me or is upset with me... I try to tell myself it's because they care and are stressed... But at the expense of my mental well being.
Maybe I deserve this pain, from every direction... Maybe things were going to well for too long... Maybe I don't want to suffer..i don't want to learn... I've had enough lessons... Can't the universe send me something lasting and loving... And a million dollars...
I've cried more in one month than I have in these past 3 years...
I think of the other day as my dad gets into the car 40 pounds lighter, looking gaunt in the face, while nurses and my mother tell me that "the worse is over"... and I really hope it is...
~~~ it's finally been 48 hours .
I get out of bed and listen to some music while finally drinking some wate really hope the worst is over.
7/31/23
Spoiler
The worst was over, but it didn't get much better.
10/29/23
8llbs lighter
Stronger mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Still depressed
My dad is cancer-free and doing chemo 20 lbs back on.
Still a rollercoaster
(This was kind of cool to keep in my notes and look back on. I'm telling you guys, documenting my life has been so helpful for me as far as reminding me how far I've come and to remind me to be grateful, and also to keep track of certain things.)
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