Saturday, May 05, 2012

Apology to ED + Everyone Else

Is it the food or is it the depression?

I've had enough days away from food to be able to say yes to both.  It's strange waking up & not regretting what I ate the day before but that's not enough to keep me from going back to bed, back to sleep, back to non-caloric oblivion.

Is it the results of the food or depression?

Again, probably yes to both.  My body hurts in ways it hasn't for 14 years.  I'm detoxing.  But while I see no point in binging, I see no point in anything else either.

Most days -- it seems to be running at 3:1 -- I feel like an elephant in a collapsed circus tent.  How hard would it be to bathe?  Too hard.  Do the dishes?  Too hard.

So I go back to bed.

Is it depression?

Yes.  I wake up exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open for what must be done in the morning.  I forget things -- keys, filling out deposit slips, phone calls, transferring funds, paying bills (I have some nice late fees this month when my one purpose in life is to pay off debt: good show).  I swing between days of being hungry but with no desire to eat -- it seems like such an awful lot of trouble -- and days of having little appetite at all.  Walking to the grocery store and interacting with clerks requires a nap just thinking about it.

But the food, the weight and the depression are my three ring circus.  I can write this only because the food is down and because I caught an extra 5 hours' sleep this morning - afternoon.

I think I bottomed out when I realized that eating a pizza quite literally made me pass out.  When I came out of the coma, I threw out the left-over pizza only to pick it out of the trash the next time I woke up.

It can't help my depression to have that fresh in my mind.

Thursday morning I woke up, abstinent, with few dog obligations and a lunch date with you.  I swam out of bed, had some coffee, sleep-walked Daisy and fell back into bed.  It had been two days since I'd last bathed or brushed my teeth.  I don't remember the last time I washed my hair.  I slept deeply until 4 o'clock that afternoon.  I was too limp to turn on my computer and figure out where you were staying to call and cancel. I'd left my phone off the charger and my cell phone was dead as well because maintenance is not high on my list.  I couldn't call until the next day.

When people ask how overeating hurts anyone besides oneself, remember this post.  It murders energy.  It plays roller coaster with self-esteem.  And then, if one is prone, as I am prone, to depression, I can't show up even for apologies.  My dog needs much more walking and play time.  It contributes to my inability to call my 94-year-old father.  It s-t-re-t-c-h-e-s my response time to paying clients and friends depending on me.  I have nothing to say and thinking is an activity best not engaged in.

And the only thing that will help me out of it is medication, abstinence from sugar and flour, and twelve steps.  I trust the elephant handlers and circus guys will get me out of the tent.

I want to say I've hated myself or hated being myself but hate is an emotion I don't have the energy for.  I simply wait.  For the odd "good" day, for more better days, for my body not to hurt so much, for my interests to return.


Sue Trueblood said...

As always, your skill at putting feelings into words allows me to empathize because I've been exactly where you are emotionally. I went through over 5 months of depression this past fall and winter because I was hoping that the 12 steps and healthy eating were enough and that I could quit my anti-depressant. That's the fourth time I've tried that little experiment in sobriety, over a course of 19 years, and it's still WRONG. The meds treat the problem, they don't make it go away. I'm back on fluoxotine for life ~ potential side-effects be damned, I don't want to live without it.

Anonymous said...

Your words reached out to me across oceans and I wish there was something--anything--that I could say.

It sounds exhausting. And unfair that you must suffer like this.

Linda J

Vickie said...

I have been through years of what you describe without really understanding what was going on with me. AT LEAST YOU UNDERSTAND and can articulate and know what you need to do. At least you can see. Part of being able to do, is to see.

From what you wrote it sounds as if you have alerted your therapist and your psychiatrist.

I now have the three day rule. My psychiatrist says if I get to day #3 of what you write, I need to call in the cavalry. It is a testament (for me) that now 3 bad days is an oddity. Once upon a time, 3 good days would have been a miracle.

My favorite line (of yours): "I trust the elephant handlers and circus guys will get me out of the tent."

SM Blogger said...
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