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@aeviternal-acedia
Screaming into the void
It’s getting bad again, planning ED relapses after the holidays bad, daydreaming about self harm bad, fantasizing about drugs bad. i just want to be sedated until this goes away. I just don’t want to feel like this forever.
i will never leave this house
"your not sick enough"-a thought constantly playing through my head
Helth (tw: ED)
False alarm, didn’t fuck my heart up structurally or electrically, just my vasovagal nerve damage again 🤡
And now my boyfriend knows. But something about the past few days tells me if I just stop talking about it he will too.
It’s fucked up, I thought I was so scared to tell him because I thought he’d be asking me to eat all the time and I know I wouldn’t be able to say no to him, or asking me if I ate and I know I would never be able to lie to him- I was scared of being held accountable and monitored and worried about. Now that he knows, he’s asked once in four days (since I told him my heart was fine and I was worried the news would send me deeper into relapse without that pushing me out) “how the eating thing is going” and did not push any further or question me at all.
I know this is fucked up and not very “self reliant, self sufficient, independent, I am responsible for my own mental health and no one else is” of me but is it super fucking toxic that I wish he would? I wish he would pester and bug and nag and smother? I’m so tired of fighting myself to be responsible, of doing this on my own, of exhibiting self restraint. It may be unhealthy but I want someone to sit me down and give me structure and rules and consequences and guidance and negotiate with me and “make” me eat so I don’t feel so goddamn guilty eating what feels like so much fucking food just so my stupid fucking liver doesn’t fall out of my goddamn body.
I know that’s too much to expect of someone. I don’t blame him, that isn’t what he signed up for, it isn’t fair, it isn’t realistic, it’s not his job or his responsibility. And really, I don’t *want* him to worry about me, I don’t wish that anxiety on him. I just don’t want to feel like I’m doing this alone.
More ED health complications and numbers TW:
My heart stopped for 4.8 seconds. Going from 300-500 calories a day and then eating 800 calories a day and calling it ✨harm reduction✨ ain’t gonna cut it. This happened so fast. I just relapsed at the beginning of October, and it’s December 14th. 10 weeks in, after 4 years. I’m not underweight and I didn’t even lose a lot or quickly. It just… it happened so fast. I though I had more time.
Suzie isn’t gonna force me into ED treatment if I don’t want it, but she pointed out that if I collapse, IF I make it to the ER, they’ll know and it’ll be out of both of our hands. Which means I absolutely have to be responsible for keeping myself alive. She asked me “okay, so how long are we going to hang out on deaths doorstop after knocking?” and that was a sobering question. So I’m ding dong ditching and leaving the driveway before I fuck up everyone’s Christmas.
Hoo boy hard TW (ED health complications)
For the first time, I have done measurable damage to my body. My heart rate is dipping into the 30s at night. Don’t get me wrong, I’m startled and acting, implementing harm reduction, upping my intake and stopping heavy restriction; but I… I think I should be more scared. This should be enough to snap me out of it immediately, not to increase from low res to high res. This should be enough to prove to me that I am sick enough, that should *terrify* me. I should be at the store buying normal food and telling my friends and getting help but I’m holding on, just a few more weeks, then I’ll maintain, I swear.
Just five more minutes? I don’t wanna get out of bed, I’m so *comfortable* here.
"your not sick enough"-a thought constantly playing through my head
Just setting the mood for this first post
I made one because I think im funny (this is also keeping me me from binging lmao)
every year the time passes and i say "wow i can't handle the passage of time" and the time continues to pass and the cycle repeats
my toxic trait is that im like a puppy with separation anxiety but unlike a puppy im not cute and keeping distance is a pretty reasonable thing to do actually
had a genuine revelation in therapy that made me burst out laughing, been a while since I had one of those
therapist was talking about urge surfing (the idea that urges are waves that come and go if you ride them out, so the more you delay acting on the urge, the more likely you are not to do it) and then I was talking about how the transient nature of my emotions is actually what gets me so mad, like it’s actually very very annoying to be so so sad but to also be thinking “I know I’m very sad right now but unfortunately I am going to feel better later so I can’t destroy my life for one minute’s gratification,” and it’s just so annoying because if I knew or at least believed that I was gonna be sad FOREVER it would make things much easier, but instead I’m so mad at the knowledge that this too will pass. like it’s a manifestation of weak will to not feel bad forever.
and my therapist was like, “so even at the worst times, you still have hope”
and I was like “holy shit dude” because never once in my life have I considered that the little bastard voice that tells me not to smash all the dishes because they’ll be a pain in the ass to clean up in ten minutes is the last gift/curse of Pandora’s box
hope is a thing with wings, i.e. a bird and like most birds is 1) very beautiful, 2) very annoying, and 3) sometimes shits on you
anybody else going through life feeling like a dog that wasn't socialized enough as a puppy
