Some days it feels like I’m on a never-ending hike in 115 degree heat without any water. I have a cell phone I could call for immediate help, but instead I choose to keep going, to reach the summit. And even then, it’s not over–I have to hike back, without knowing if I’ll even survive the scorching temperature long enough to make it back to the starting point.

I barely remember what enjoyment feels like. When something requires smiling, I smile. But it’s lacking that feeling of joy. I keep putting myself in situations where I should feel so much joy, and I feel nothing. It’s not that I hate being there, or the company, or the events, it’s that I’m hyper-aware that something should be fun and it doesn’t feel fun and I don’t know how to make it fun again. So I get sad. Or irritated. And feel hopeless because if this is how things are going to be then what is the point?

I discovered alcohol seems to bring back feelings–although they’re all the feelings and that doesn’t necessarily feel good either. Alcohol does this to me, right now anyway: Hey! Let’s talk about everything! Woohoo I’m super sociable and happy and things are fun! Wait not so fast, why do you have so much confidence right now? Did you forget you have none? You’re probably saying a bunch of things you’re going to regret later. [Sudden spiral of black hole life-is-meaningless thoughts]. Oh look, tears. Hey, that’s a lot of tears. And now you’re dehydrated and fat. Good job. 

I used to take the 3-year-old (then 2) to the park, the library, the zoo, wherever–and get so much enjoyment out of watching her play. That is so lost on me. I force smiles when other moms are around as they are playing or whenever they look up at me, and sometimes have to remind myself that blank-emotionless-staring isn’t helping their self-esteem. It’s exhausting. I am finding myself wishing I was alone and unloved so that I could be alone, feel nothing by myself, and it didn’t affect anyone else.

In June, in church, I was so nauseous half way through the service I had to get up and leave. I went to the bathroom and thought I was going to puke. A pregnancy test definitely followed that event, which was negative. All the eating disorder thoughts were there but the behaviors weren’t really in full swing. I’m feeling the same way. That nauseous feeling started becoming regular and then I started restricting and blaming it on just being too nauseous to eat much. I didn’t make the connection that it could be anxiety and/or depression causing the upset stomach, but looking back, it has to be. I feel exactly like I did then, now. I want to stop feeling nauseous and I know how to make it stop. I want to be alone and go back to losing weight. I guess if I’m going to be miserable and either overly emotional or emotionless (because it seems like I am either highly sensitive or completely vacant), I need to feel like there’s a reason or purpose behind it.




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