Posted by: Marie | September 5, 2012

(704) Where I’m at right now

Post #704
[Private journal entry written on Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 6:00am]

I woke up early this morning . . . before the sun was up. My brain was spinning . . . I’m back in that hopeless place again. So, I did a brain dump in my journal:

——

I’ve eaten at least one pint of B&J everyday since the last session . . . a couple of times I’ve eaten two in one day. I know I’m gaining weight. I know it is hard on my body to have to process that much junk. But, I don’t care.

Well, I mean . . . I care, but I’ve given up on ever having a sexy body – or at least I’ve given up on ever being sexually attractive again. It doesn’t really matter if I eat like that because I’m always going to binge eat.

Sun Moon Lake by Martin Chen

I could continue fighting to refrain from binging, but the best I’ve been able to do – the best I think I’ll ever be able to do – is to refrain for a few days. And, two or three days of not binging in the midst of 100 other days of binging . . . well, my fighting for control everyday doesn’t really have an impact on the big picture.

Why go through the misery of fighting? Why not just give in and eat what I want to eat everyday? There isn’t any difference in the big picture between 100 pints of B&J ice cream and 103 pints of B&J ice cream. But, there is a big difference between having to fight hard – and to fail over and over – to control my eating. It is far less painful to not fight.

The same goes for the picking. I try so hard to keep from picking all the scabs off all over my body – on my face and arms, which people can see, but also my butt and thighs where they can’t see. I am able to sometimes control my picking in the places people can see because I instead allow myself to pick with abandon at the places that are hidden.

If I were to have sex, I’d have to explain all the scars and the fresh scabs on the hidden parts. And that’s not happening – I’m not explaining and I’m not having sex. It’s never going to happen.

I remember what it is like to be having sex and knowing that the man is doing his best to not be grossed out by my body – that he is keeping his eyes closed, imagining someone so much sexier – that he is careful to not touch any place that is lumpy and jiggly and scabby because that would ruin his fantasy. I never again want to be so vividly reminded of how disgusting my body is to a man. I’d rather not be touched.

There is another piece to this . . . even if someday I were to magically figure out how to stop binging and even if someday I were to magically start losing weight . . . and if someday I obtained a healthy body . . . maybe even a sexy body . . . the last thing I want to do with that body is to allow a man to touch it for sexual gratification.

The thought of having to tolerate a man doing sexual things with my body, or doing sexual things with his body while looking at and touching my body makes me sick. When I think about the grunting and the panting and the sweating, I want to vomit.

And sex is a necessary part of being in romantic relationships . . . I understand I don’t have to have sex early in the relationship (that it is not healthy to have sex early in the relationship). But, at some point, sex will be expected. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do sex again. I’d rather be alone then have to tolerate having sex.

And, I’d have to be happier. No one wants to have a close relationship with someone who is depressed and who has to fight everyday to find enough energy to simply get out of bed and who often prays to die.

And, these are all the reasons I have decided to stop fighting – to stop hoping – to get to a place where I’m ready to start dating.

So, does that mean that I’m ready to let “where I’m at right now” be good enough?

What does “good enough” mean? Does it mean I quit trying to be healthier and happier? Does it mean I’m okay with being like this for the rest of my life? Does it mean it’s okay if I get worse?

Does this tie into the “being real”? Does “being real” mean that I quit trying to hide that this is where I’m at with things? But, don’t I have to hide it somewhat in professional situations? Don’t I have to hide it in social situations where people don’t want to know? Who would want to hang out with me if I let my discouragement and depression show as often as I experience it? I wouldn’t want to hang out with someone like me . . .


Responses

  1. Hi Marie, I wonder if you followed up with the feelings of disgust about sex.

    As to being real. I think it means that knowing every part of us is here to serve even if we sometimes do bad things. The disgust and desire to pick and criticising yourself for it and not wanting to be bothered are all part of you and have lots of energy to contribute to living.

    Professional and social situations are often bad for our psychological health – I wish it were different.

    • Hi, Evan –

      LOL . . . I’ve tried a couple of times to respond to your comment but I keep getting interrupted before I can hit the “post comment” button!

      As for my feelings of disgust about sex . . . that is a long and hard journey . . . I’ve made a little progress, but I’m still having to work on that one.

      I really like what you said about knowing that every part of us is here to serve . . . even the parts we don’t like so much. That really hit home for me and gave me some solid food for thought.

      Thank you for planting some great seeds!

      – Marie


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