26 November 2010

Tumbling down

On Thanksgiving Day, I took a tumble down our staircase and landed headfirst into the wall. I could almost hear Alanis Morrisette in the background singing, "Isn't it ironic?"

I am tired. Tired in my soul. I don't know whether I should feel grateful I wasn't more seriously hurt or pissed that I had yet another potentially fatal accident AND YET I DIDN'T DIE. Why? It might have made things much easier.

I am trying to kill myself by plunging headfirst back into anorexia and starvation. At least that is what my doctor said today, and he wants to know why I want to diminish myself until I become nothing.

I struggled to answer his question. Not because I don't necessarily have an answer, but it is typically easier for me to write out my feelings.

Do I want to die? On some days, yes. The anxiety is so all-consuming, I feel as if I could crawl the walls and scream at the moon. I can't stand the thought of all I have to do and all the people I have to please. I want to shut myself away into the box of anorexia, slam the lid shut, and tell everyone to leave me alone. (Thank you, Dr. Sackeyfio, for this very apt metaphor.)

Other days, no. I feel I can pull myself through this and turn it around. I just have to do one simple thing: eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.

But I don't want to eat. It's what I need to do to feel better and function more clearly. It is the simplest thing in the world, really. Billions of people lift food to their mouths, insert and then chew daily.

So why do I find this very simple act so very difficult?

Because if I eat, I live. I live and must face life, in all its ugliness and beauty, its pain and joy. I must live my life; read and study, write papers; it is all very simple enough. I must rebuild my relationship with my husband, rediscover love and joy and everything that comes with an intimate relationship.

Is that what I'm afraid of? Perhaps. As we grow closer together, I am haunted still by his actions this summer, when I came back from class and found our home stripped of everything he valued. Except me.  I often dream of that evening, hurtling back into time and seeing the rape of my home, my life; knowing nothing would ever be the same again. I think about it and struggle not to cry.

Maybe that's why I am again starving myself. I don't want to feel what I felt then, and if I block off my emotions by starvation . . .

There it is. The box is there and I crawl into it more and more. I just don't know if I can crawl out of it this time.


8 comments:

sarahlynn said...

*hugstight*

I Hate to Weight said...

do you ever read past blogs? i remember when i traveled for work and i'd be sitting in hotel rooms, reading your blog and worrying and hoping. for some reason, i have very clear pictures of reading your blog specifically.

i guess i was thinking about your process and how you got here.

(by the way, i'm home with the flu and feverish. if my thoughts don't make sense, that's why.)

i pray for you. i care so much. and pray that you will chose life. i wonder what would make that possible

Silly Girl said...

Stay strong. I think you can crawl out of the box. You have always given me hope in some of my darkest days. I have faith that you will make. Take care!

Anonymous said...

I am sorry this is so hard for you. One day at a time. This too shall pass.
God Bless
K8B

I Hate to Weight said...

how are you, angela? i'm thinking about you. you CAN do this.

you are so worth a better life. hold tight to recovery.

write me, mstatmore@mindspring.com any time. if you want to talk on the phone, i'd love to talk to you.

you CAN exist in the world. it may be so very difficult and scarey (i know), and you can still do it.

keep writing, stay in touch. all my love, melissa

Missy said...

No.
NO.
No, Angela, we will HAVE NONE OF THIS.

You have had your time in the box. You have written down the thoughts and feelings behind it.

Now get out of the box.
I know that you know you are stronger than this.
Your kids know you can do ANYTHING. Believe them.

6 When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?” .....

..... 8 Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”

Angela. Get. Out. Of. The. Box.

You can do it!

xoxoxox.

~Missy

PS- I am not really such a tyrant but maybe God was speaking through me...told me exactly the tone to use. I almost feel like I can hear "your voice" in that commanding tone to yourself. "Get Up ANGELA!"

PPS - I am not a creepy creapster.
Im sort of weird, sort of a freak but not in a creepy way (0:

Angela said...

Do you think that you honestly want to die and leave your family behind? My heart aches for you. I'm praying for you, and hope you can find your way out of this. Sending all my love and {{{HUGS}}}

Lisa said...

Hey! i miss you!! i'm sorry I haven't commented in months. I've come back into the blogging world. I'm sory about the fall. Hang in there. ED is a bitch but you're strong, hang in there

could you email me your email address, at guo791999@gmail.com so that I can add you to my list ( my blog is private bc my parents found it.. ) . I would love to stay in contact!!

<3
-Lisa