Coming out as a compulsive over eater has been terrifying. I feel a sense of terror when it comes to figuring out the why.. Take today for example I know that when I am depressed I eat and while I am eating I don’t expect myself to do anything else. It sort of stops time and expectations. It feels humiliating to admit that. I eat as an excuse to not do other more meaningful things. This sucks.
I’m coming out as a compulsive over eater and binge eater. I’m doing this because I want to recover. I’m tired of the shame, guilt, pain, and anger this disorder has caused me. I eat when I feel an emotion I can’t handle and I eat when I feel emotionally empty. I can’t keep going on like this. I need help but do not want to talk to my therapist about it. It still feels really personal. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that I have compulsive over eating problem. I hope this is my first step in the recovery process.
How do I get through the day with howling demons raging in my head? How do I function through this much pain? Every fiber of my being screaming and howling in the most excruciating pain ever imaginable. It hurts to be.
The pain and torment of my existence is palpable around me in a heady fog of misery. I am not fit for this world today. How do I make it stop? When when will it ever stop? I would give anything for better. To be better. To not be mentally ill. To have a pill I could take and make all this go away. I want it to stop. I am very afraid this is the beginning of another bad run. Badlands sign posts everywhere beckoning me ever closer to the brink.
I don’t feel safe ~*~
I’m in shear terror. My entire body is tingling my heart is racing my ears are buzzing my breathing is hard. There is a little girl in my head screaming at the top of her lungs. FUCK I hate having PTSD driven agoraphobia. It’s so bad to day that i am in tears at the thought of sending out a fucking email. I don’t want to share any part of me. I MUST send out the fucking email. A part of me must leave the protection of my home and venture out into the world unprotected creating a tether by which the world can invade my home attacking and destroying me. I’m all alone and that’s fine what’s not fine is being forced to not be.
I’m being forced to let the world in because i have a fucking job. I need to work. I need the money which means I need to send this fucking email. I don’t want to. I don’t want to connect with the outside world as me. I lie rocickmusic. I like being a shadow of myself. I like being untraceable. Not a single thing connects this identity to me the person and that makes it safe. I have no such protection at work. It’s just me out there and I hate it.
I am retreating to safety and not going out for awhile. I think my experiment into the world has failed me and left me battered in exactly the way I feared. I can’t trust the outside world it’s just not safe. I think I need to be alone to heal. I’m so broken. I’m so fragile. My house is so well built and sturdy, strong, and safe. I think I’ll stay here awhile and hide.
I have made what I consider to be a brave decision. I am going to actively fight my depression and anxiety. I have tipped my toe in this ocean before and have always quickly drawn it back. I am plagued by fatalistic thoughts and tend to obsessively find the bad in everything. I am almost always anxious about some unspeakably horrible pending doom. I don’t choose to be this way. It is extremely painful and lonely. I am always hiding for fear of being found out and then rejected and I want to stop. I want to join the living. I want to make connections.To these ends I have started seeing a new therapist. I am med resistant and in need of alternative therapy. My therapist has recommended inspiration therapy. I have blogged about this a little bit and will be sharing my experience as I explore this new therapeutic device. I welcome questions. I am very afraid.
The title says it. Today just feels like it’s raining shit. My insomnia has been kicking my ass for 3 solid weeks. I’m up for 2 days then I fall asleep at some random time and wake up sat some random time today I fell asleep at like 7am and woke up at 6pm which means I will be up for the next two days. My work is giving me shit because they thought I was on the schedule today and I was not. I sent the schedule I got via email to prove it and called in but the office is closed so I wont know what kind of shit storm I’m in store for until tomorrow. FUCK I hate this so much. I called my therapist and she said to blog and tweet on some kind of contest for someone else to win. That rooting for someone else will take my focus off of me and release good brain food that hits positivity buttons in my brain. So I’m going to watch Rupauls drag race and then tweet about Bianca Del Rio. Someone I don’t know and see if it works. The queen makes me feel good and after extensive research I’ve learned is a pretty decent person. I mean Roy (dude name) didn’t bail on New Orleans after Katrina after moving to New York which I think is pretty cool. Still goes back home for stuff. I’m starting to feel a bit better so I guess I’ll dive in and see if it works to beat the demons back. Here’s to hoping my therapist knows what the fuck it is she’s talking about.
So today was a bad day and I mean epically bad. The demons in my head were raging. The ones that tell me I’m nothing. I’m worthless. I’m less than. So of course I put in an emergency therapy request because I was feeling more than tragic in a way that only my therapist and other chronically depressed people can understand. My psychologist is very down to earth and never talks down to me. My therapist said today is going to be shit. DUH?! But there are different kinds of shit. She then went on to describe the different kinds of shit like actual excrement and had me describe what kind of shit my day is. It was surprisingly therapeutic and I feel more chill and a little less tragic. Surprise surprise today’s shit is not the worst kind of shit. It is not even close to my worst shit. She helped me. She was there. I was not left adrift in my sea of shit. Therapy helped me today. My day is still shit. I’m still tragic. I still feel less than. I feel a tiny bit less worthless because my therapist came through for me. She is always trying new approaches and sometimes they work just enough to get me through the day. Anyone who is suffering with depression or anxiety can attest that is no small feat. It is amazing when therapy works even a little. http://www.adjustmentguidance.com/
Page 1 of 2