I am working actually but this stupid file transfer shows me it will take 38 minutes and since the program cannot be used while transferring files, I will simply write another blog entry.
I realized that my latest posts were sort of lacking the right depth as well as the right focus. Lately, I found it very difficult to concentrate and to even put my thoughts together in an effective way, maybe that is also why I cannot really concentrate.
Ok, now I would like to present you with what my days actually look like. I mean, I am living in a western society, namely the USA. People may think, heck it is just like everyone else’s day and that may be so, if there was not Bulimia my invisible and invincible half-of-my-lifetime partner.
A day with Bulimia. And it’s raining down on me from the moment I get up…
Kata Kabanova - Eduard Tomek
4:30am : my cat jumps up and down the bed, you can hear him hanging in the blinds, throwing down a glass that is still half full. I’m waking up, feeling horrible, remembering that just 5 hours before I was leaning head over in the toilet. My neck is stiff, my muscles in my arms and shoulder sore, especially my left arm. I feed the cat getting back to bed already thinking about everything that is ahead of me this very day. My thoughts are circling and again the question “Will I finally be able to end a day like everyone else? Not binging and purging?” I feel like I need at least an hour more rest but will not fall asleep before 5.30 if at all.
6:00 am: my alarm clock is singing “Guten Morgen, guten Morgen, guten Morgen Sonnenschein…” I turn it off. My body is weak from last night’s session. I feel horrible. But I know I have to get up. I need to get a lot of things done today to fit in this society. So I do. My cat is licking my hand, eventually starting to bite it, all happy that he can finally hunt my ankles and bite my legs.
6:20 am: I am off for my daily run. I pick up a friend on the way, listen to what she has to say, being annoyed by some of the superfluous content, while my mind remembers the way I looked in the mirror this morning. All fat and ugly. Exhausted. I keep running, it makes me feel alive. My heart rate is low, I am used to running to much, I need to run more in order to challenge myself and also to loose these extra 10 Ibs.
7:30 am: I am back at my Apartment. Feeling a little energized to star the day and to eat right and healthy. I feel confident that I can do it and that I will recover.
8:20 am: I am at the bus stop waiting for my bus to school. I am wearing a new T Shirt… in the bus someone tells me that I still had the tag on my shirt. I feel so embarrassed while I try to tell myself that this is nothing. It is ok. It can happen to everyone. But it is putting me down. I already feel ashamed about myself, about what I did again last night. I feel like if I look at someone that person can tell. But how would they know? It is a well-kept secret.
9:00 am: I am at Starbucks getting my morning Soy Chai. It is too sweet and I already feel bad about it. I am counting calories. I get lost in thoughts about my weight. I feel my fat wobbling when I walk. I wished I were somewhere or someone else.
Then I usually manage it to work a little bit, while I get distracted very easily.
I get hungry; eat grapes and a rice cake. Have a stomachache. Feel awful. Wished last night did not happen. Wished I were pretty. Wished I were successful. Wished I were not stupid. Wished I could keep my own personal promises and reach my own ideals. I am a failure.
I will eventually eat something like yoghurt and fruit or even a bagel for lunch and drink lots of tea, apple juice or coffee. Feeling awful about anything I consume.
3:00pm: I am getting tired and exhausted. I know I have to work more, so I do and I end till 4 or 5 pm. Time to go to the gym. 70 minutes running is not enough. I need to swim at least 30 minutes or longer or go to exercise after the swim. I need to. I want to be perfect. I need to fit in.
7:00pm : I am taking the bus home. I should have went back to the office working a little more to not be faced with being home alone. I cannot wind down. Not at home but not somewhere else. I have optimistic plans on my evening home alone. I want to cook a healthy and well- balanced meal, eat it while enjoying a good glass of wine or a beer. Watching a DVD or online TV. I would love to relax, but I am already stressed out about what all I have to accomplish the next day, in my life and in recovery. I am overwhelmed by the world I live in and I am overwhelmed with who I am. For all my thoughts circle around this very thought and I cannot figure it out.
If all goes well, I decide to go to bed early.
Sometimes I end up drinking.
If I end up drinking I am most likely to end up binging and purging, but even if I don’t drink I may end up in Bulimia’s arms, my last resort in moments of full self denial and rejection, lost hope and faith, being so lonely that the pain inside is screaming as loud as it can, not waking me up though, but making myself numb for the reality, so I am again torn into purging, trying to get rid of it that way. But I fail. And even though I know I will fail, I try again and again, harder and harder… It is a battle already lost, but I tell myself that lost battles can lead to new beginnings that can be even more powerful, substantial and puissant.
And so I fight the night. Again.
Grace's Blog 