I have stated it before; that the thing I really struggle/d with is the feeling of not being in control. It fills me with crippling anxiety, depression, self hatred, disgust and dread, quite frankly.
I suppose openness and honesty goes some way to regaining a degree of control; but it is still not good enough, not really.
My eating has improved but I’m not happy. Every mouthful I chomp on makes me hate myself slightly more, every time without fail. It reminds me that I am still not in control, just like when he forced himself into me while I was struggling, I wasn’t in control then either.
It’s amazing how the mind works isn’t it, how that feeling has now attached itself to everything that goes into my body, every morsel of food screams out to me that I am not in control. I feel constantly sick and disgusted with myself ever since he did what he did, consumed by self hatred and it is just magnified daily now.
I feel huge and disgusting. I’m too scared to even weigh myself and haven’t for a couple of weeks now, the thought actually does scare me. Stupid really. The contradicting factor though, is that my depression numbs me to having any degree of pride in myself, so for example, I won’t want to eat because it makes me feel all of the aforementioned feelings, however depression makes me apathetic to feeling more shit, I guess. I don’t know, makes sense to me, however mad that sounds.
I did not go through with it, but I found myself holding my insulin pen again last night, tempted to dial up a huge dose, act on it and not think twice. Yes, as a Mother that thought disgusts me, but please realise how much it takes to even admit that. I self referred myself to a crisis house this morning. A four day retreat in central london for people that need to get away. I do need to get away, living in the environment where the rape took place is killing me, no doubt about it. The retreat promotes sleep, healthy eating, gorgeous walks and environments, counselling and befriending. It’s free of charge.
Sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?
So I have made a collage of two pictures of me, the one on the left was my weight loss about two months ago, my ribs stick out and I love that look and feeling. However, the one on the right is today. Fat, disgusting, pig like. Yes, I’m too scared to step foot on those bathroom scales, but that picture will shame me back into a huge calorie deficit, because it’s absolutely vile and triggering as fuck.