Monday, August 7, 2017

Down the Relapse Rabbit Hole

Hello again!


I realize no one probably reads my blog anymore since it has been a few years since I posted on here. I actually got better... for a while. But last week shit hit the fan. Family stress piled on top of school stress piled on top of my work stress overwhelmed me. And I sort of... just... broke.

It started last Monday when my mom and I had a huge argument. For those of you who don't know/remember: she has Borderline Personality Disorder. She was in one of her moods last week where literally EVERYTHING I do is wrong. Long story, short -- she wanted me to do something that I physically couldn't do in the amount of time she demanded. So she threatened me with everything she possibly could. When I went to defend myself, it only made things worse. I gave in and found another solution to her demand and took care of it. But she still wasn't happy! Shocker, I know. We ended up in another argument and (having had heart problems in the past) she pulled the "You're going to kill me, you know that. You ungrateful, spoiled child. You're going to give me a heart attack!" card. She went to bed and I was left to deal with all the emotions that had just been brought to the surface.

For anyone who has cut in the past, you will know the feeling I'm about to describe: A painful urge that builds and builds until you think you are going to explode. I ran down to the kitchen and grabbed a knife and slowly cut along the inside of my arm just small enough to relieve the pressure. It's a sensational feeling when you haven't done it so long. I was shocked at how much I enjoyed it and it was hard for me to believe I ever gave it up. Cutting always did one of two things for me: either gave me the control I needed to relieve the pressure of the emotions building up, or it made me feel when I couldn't feel anything anymore. My arms are covered in different kinds of cuts. The angry, thick cuts from when I needed release. And the thin, precise cuts from when I wanted to feel.

I went to bed feeling like a failure. How could I do something so awful to myself after I promised myself I never again would? Yet, at the same time I kept thinking of how great it felt to have just a microscopic amount of control in my life and in the world. I fell asleep hoping that, by tomorrow morning, I might somehow be magically better.

I was wrong.

When I woke up Tuesday, I didn't realize what I was doing until it was too late. I skipped breakfast and when lunch rolled around I skipped that too. Dinner was 175 cals of potatoes and romaine. I was hungry. And it felt great. My ED has always been in my subconscious, silently waiting to come out and "help" me when I need it. By Wednesday morning, I was in full blown restricting mode again. 300 cals a day or less. I had safe foods, ok foods, bad foods, and fear foods all written out again. The calculator that lay dormant in my head these past few years, shook off the dust and began to work its magic. Medium apple (72).  Medium russet potato (168). 5 Baby carrots (20). 1/2 Tbsp tahini (45). On and on it went. By Thursday I had added in exercise.

And by today I am down 10lbs in a week. It's hard to make yourself stop engaging in something addicting. It's even harder to stop when you don't want to. And why the hell would I want to stop when I just lost 10lbs in a week? Sure there is the slight problem of me purging my 175 calorie dinner earlier because I felt too full. Or the problem that I'm already dreaming about eating food not on my plan and feeling guilty when I wake up. Or the problem that I'm scared to eat over 300 calories, even though I know that is not sustainable for when school starts. But these problems, they take a back seat to my ED. It has gotten me through so much. I don't know how I managed so long without it. And just like that I can no longer see my life without my ED pulling me through it.

One week. That's all it took for me to fall completely back into every old habit I had. I didn't just fall down the rabbit hole, I dove. Head first.


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