(4-4-09, catching up still)
I’m sick of me. I’m sick of I I I I I I, incessantly I.
My bones remember. I was thin in high school. People wondered if I was anorexic. My sister showed some genuine concern, wanted me to drink Ensure. Mom ignored it, but my dad WAS concerned. My grandparents were very concerned.
Whatever it was, it didn’t get a label, wasn’t that important to mom, anyway.
So during Thursdays freak out, I didn’t eat. It felt good, the hunger felt good, the power over my appetite felt good. My body remembered and it felt familiar and right, being hungry, not eating.
When I woke up this morning, my bones remembered. I felt the sheets and blankets on my hip bones and my ribs, even though I’m currently overweight, something in my bones remembered and I was comforted by the feeling of my bones. I used to grab on to my hip bones, feel the scoop in my belly between them and grab onto the bones and get comforted by that…I want that feeling again.
I didn’t eat on Thursday or Friday, I ate a little bit today. I want to feel comforted by my bones again, god I love that feeling in my bones, I need to feel that again… comforted by control over my appetites, by my size…but most of all by my bones.
I hate myself. I feel fragile, like whatever it is that is ME has been in a terrible accident, is really wounded and is not ok…
I’m confronting just how selfish, self centered I am and I hate what I’m seeing. Confronting how dependent I am, confronting my total lack of inner resources to deal with crisis, no matter how small. I hate me. I really despise me.
I want to clam up in therapy. I feel embarrassed for freaking out and I feel ashamed for showing my vulnerability to T, for calling and being weak.
DH’s hand looked a lot better today. Clinic called and he tested positive for staph, so continue meds. I know that he dodged a bullet, and he doesn’t appreciate how close he came to some pretty bad shit happening. I’m not sure that he is out of the woods yet, either and he thinks that he is.
He puts me in such a horrid position, he refuses to take care of himself and I see the adverse effects, so I end up taking on one of many different roles: nagging fish wife; one of pleading him to take care of himself and I DESPISE being put in that position; one of letting what happens due to his behavior happen, but then I take on the blame for the consequences and I then have to live with the guilt of causing the bad shit to happen.
I’m shaking again, my whole being is shaking just writing this out. I think I’m going to lose it again, have a break down. It takes little for me to start having physical symptoms, shaking, heart pounding…I’m too far gone to relax.
so I look for pills to take but I have none right now. No wine. Maybe I can find comfort in my bones again, for a season, because I need them right now, they got me through hell in the past, my bones and my hunger can get me through this, too…
