I’m mad. I’m mad that I have to be dealing with this eating bullshit again, especially now. I’m mad that as a highly-intelligent woman, I can’t stop equating my worth to a number on the scale. I mean, my blood pressure is a steady 120/80, and my cholesterol is low. My pulse is good, and every other spec is well within normal range. Yet, because of one fucking number (and I don’t even know exactly what it is), I feel grotesque, disgusting, ugly, not sexy, etc.
Let’s set that aside for the moment. I want to talk about the physical aspect of this issue. I am sick with the third incarnation of whatever the fuck I have. I am guessing that it’s bronchitis with a touch of sinus crap, but I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. The problem is, since this mutation and, to be honest, since the visit to my doctor, I have been nauseous. When, you ask? Pretty much all the damn fucking time. If I don’t eat, the nausea abates. The minute I eat, I get nauseous again. Of course, this makes me not want to eat, and so I’ve been eating much less over the last four or five days than I normally do.
Now. It makes perfect sense that if I get nauseous when I eat, I would be reluctant to eat. This is logical. However, that little voice in the back of my head saying, “Oooh! Score! If you don’t eat, you will lose weight, you fat pig!” is not so rational, logical, or, quite frankly, very kind. It shames me to say it, but that voice is there. The sick voice who delights in any reason for me to not eat or to over-exercise. If I were to decide to do a marathon, for instance, that voice would have a field day with my workout regime.
This is what frustrates me the most. I can take any situation regarding my health/eating and turn it into disordered thinking. What’s worse, I can find ways to rationalize the disordered thinking so I can continue with the behavior that might or might not be healthy. What’s even worse is that I know that this is bullshit thinking (as opposed to twenty years ago when I simply bought into it), and I still fucking do it. I struggle with it and agonize over it, but I still buy into it on an emotional level.
Right now, I am dealing with lots of personal shit. I am physically ill, and my sleep is even worse than usual. Fragmented, filled with disturbing dreams, and leaving me ten times more fatigued when I wake up than when I went to bed. I pretty much don’t want to do much of anything other than sleep, but I really don’t want to do that, either.
I feel like my world is falling apart around me, and I have no clue what to do. It’s too much, and I alternate between being numb and despairing. My circuits are overloading, and I feel as if they are going to blow at any minute. You see, I forgot that part of living is pain. I spent fifteen years numb so that even the pain was a dull ache. It was there, but it was pushed behind a wall of insulation so that it was a constant thrumming, but nothing piercing.
So, being freed from that prison, I got to taste incredible joy and be happy. I was confident in myself, and I could smile without effort. I noticed that the world actually had colors, and they were bright, sharp, crisp, and, well, colorful. Now, with all the shit going down in my personal life (mostly family shit), I feel the sharp, agonizing pain that had been buried for so long. The problem is that I don’t know how to deal with emotional pain. Physical pain, I can deal. I prefer physical pain, in fact, which is one reason I hurt myself. Physical pain is easy; emotional pain is hard. I would rather deal with literal blood than emotional wounds.
Back to eating. Nausea is my life right now, and I hate it. I want to disembowel myself, but as Kel reminded me, that shit is hard to clean up. I am so fucking resentful because I can’t deal with this. It’s one of my weak points, and now I am being forced to confront it. I would rather shove it into the background again and blithely pretend it doesn’t exist. I know it’s not healthy in the long run, but in the short-term, it’s making me crazy to have to deal with my eating crap. (Crazier, I should say). I just want to go about my life, numbly shoveling in the food without tasting it and not thinking anything about it. Or, I want to be so consumed with my diet that I don’t have to think about all the other shit in my life or what the fuck I want to do with it.
At this point, I would rather just not eat. If I could, I would drink water, coffee, and tea, and be done with it. I love food, but it terrifies me. I love pictures of food–food pr0n, as I call it–and I can look at them for hours. I can talk about food, and I used to bake cookies all the time without eating them.
When I reach this point, it’s miserable because my whole world shrinks to so very little. One number. It becomes mystical, and food becomes almost sentient. I imbue it with such import far beyond the actual worth. I fear it and I love it and I want it and I hate it. It’s an enmeshed relationship, and I despair that I will ever extract myself from it.
The biggest thing is I can’t just not deal with food. I can’t just say, “Ok, my relationship with food is fucked-up, so I will shun food. I will abstain from food. I will banish it from my life.” No, I can’t do that because then I would die. Instead, I have to deal with it. I have to deal with the nausea. I have to deal with my eating issues and my disordered thinking. And you know what? Like a five-year-old, I don’t wanna! Seriously. I don’t wanna. I am so tired of this shit, and I have been dealing with it for so fucking long, and I-JUST-DON’T-WANNA any more!
I want to go down the rabbit-hole and not look back. I want to just embrace the disordered thinking without the knowledge that it’s fucked-up and will ultimately kill me. God. I hate my body despite all my efforts to at least be neutral about it. I hate my body despite the parts that I actually like about it. I hate my body and wish I could just beat it into submission. I hate my body despite all the wonderful things it does for me on a daily basis (yeah, it’s fucked-up now, but that’s pretty much my own damn fault).
And, after this whole litany, there is still a little voice inside of me (no, not THAT one) saying, “You know you can’t go there. You know there is no joy down that road. That is the path to destruction, and you cannot survive that again. And, damn it, Hong, you WILL fucking survive.” Yes, I call myself by my last name. I don’t know why, but I do. Anyway, this little voice has been there the whole time, but she, too, has been behind the insulated wall for fifteen years.
So, which little voice is going to win out? I have no clue. I am not a betting woman unless I am sure I can win the bet. I know, then it’s not a gamble and not really a bet, but still. All I know is that I’m exhausted, broken, dispirited, and I know this is when the demons really enjoy coming out to play.
And, just because I need a little pick-me-up, more Margaret Cho.
P.S. Any nausea remedies will be gladly accepted.
P.P.S. The first video makes me think, “I’m glad that isn’t me.”
P.P.P.S. The second video makes me laugh.
Ground Ginger (1/4 tsp) in a few sips of warm water. I slam it and wait for it to work, some people can’t slam it.
Weed works great too, but only if you are willing to partake, I think yo aren’t.
And…just out of curiosity…when is your trip?
whabs, I have ginger pills for motion-sickness, and they work, too. Weed is not my thing, so no, that’s not an option for me.
Two days after Xmas. Sigh.
Ginger is the best, in any form. Ginger steeped in tea can help. I will also show you an acupressure point when I see you next. You can find references to it online, but most don’t SHOW you exactly how to do it correctly – you’ll only get ‘in the ballpark.’
And the fact that you have another voice, a voice that tells those old demons what’s what is huge. Keep it up.
Oh honey! Your subconscious is going through so much right now as you get ready for your trip…! Is it possible that right now, some part of you would really like your body to go away, to escape the visit with your dad, and/or that you can’t punish him, so you’re punishing yourself?
Choolie said it best: The fact that you have another voice, a voice that tells those old demons what’s what — is huge.
Try to give yourself credit for all that you do that is healthy and affirming, things you taught yourself, after all, having been taught much the opposite for so long. I know it’s not easy, but it’s the truth. Your story is so much more than the pain you still carry — it is primarily the story of the extent to which you have saved yourself.
I was just standing in my kitchen, cooking, thinking about what you wrote, and I realized that I wanted to clarify something:
I don’t for one minute think that I can understand the depths of your experience, or explain it (or worse, explain it away) with reference to your upcoming trip. I am just wondering if it might be helpful to consider that this trip might be a very powerful triggering event — I know you know this, but I wonder if you’ve thought specifically about how it might apply to the fact that body/eating issues are raising their particularly ugly heads again at this very particular time. Good luck with it all, and with getting better from the nasty illness(es?) — that can’t be helping, not least with your sleep. Good luck!
My anti-pukey recipe:
Honey ginger lemon tea.
Take FRESH ginger, (use a spoon to peel it, works better than a knife), about 1/2″ inch chunk, cut into 4 or 5 slices. Boil water, pre-heat cup, put ginger in cup and pour boiling water over it. Cover your cup for 5 minutes to let ginger steep.
Add half lemon’s worth of juice and chuck the squeezed lemon half into the cup. Add honey to taste (I likes it sweet), mix with spoon until dissolved. After the honey is dissolved, take out lemon half (leave ginger in) and enjoy. It always comforts my tummy. It’s not much for calories, but better than nothing.
Choolie, yes, acupressure points will be greatly appreciated. I was surprised as hell to hear the other voice. Sigh. She is very quiet, though.
ellaesther, I am sure much of this shit has to do with the trip. I am pretty damn sure that it’s triggering much of the nausea and the depression. I like your way of looking at me being more than just the broken parts, but it’s so hard for me to do that. It was a big part of my therapy session today–why it’s so damn difficult for me to be kind to myself.
James K. Polk, Esq., yay! Another BJer. Welcome to my blog, and thank you for your anti-puke recipe. I forgot the fresh ginger at the co-op today, damn it. Honey ginger is a recipe my mom used to make for me, but she didn’t add lemon. Come back any time.
Minna, that other voice gets a tiny bit stronger every time she speaks. I know, because I’m going through something parallel right now.
I wonder if your body’s just trying to tell you not to go.
Hope you feel better soon.
Choolie, yeah, I hope so. I know you know what it’s like.
Alex, most likely. I hope I feel better soon, too.