Yesterday I was anxious all day. Not sure why. Maybe it was only getting give hours of sleep. Maybe it was being gone for to long and feeling guilty about it. Maybe it was feeling the pressure of having no place for us to stay since our free house fell through. I don't like watching my dad fail physically and now mentally. I don't lie seeing my mom being so confused and absent. I don't like seeing them fight. I dont like getting angry phone calls from my sister. And I hated seeing how doughy I look in my swimsuit and my yoga clothes. Seeing the fat on the back of my arms in my t shirt. Feeling the fat on my thighs and butt. Having my bra squeeze me. I thought about taking a xanax to help with the anxiety but didn't since that's "bad" coping behavior.
I hate being fat, I hate that I can't control my eating. But I tried all day. I had good intentions for going to bed early but didn't. Instead I stayed up to watch a documentary on sleep deprivation. (irony alert...)
After my mom went to bed the feelings of dissatisfaction set in: my body, my dinner, what I can eat, my feelings of not being helpful, my parents' health failing, sucking at work, etc. So I said "just a little pineapple", then it was into the sunbutter with a bar... spoonfuls of the sweet gooey yummy stuff. I was horrified to see that more than half the jar was gone already since I'd opened it recently but that didn't stop me. The weird thing is that after I ate it, I felt like I could breathe again. I hadn't been able to breathe fully all day, even at yoga which usually helps me open up.
I might have stopped then but I decided I should finish watching the sleep deprivation documentary even though I was tired and started falling asleep. They said that sleep deprivation makes you eat more in general - up to 500 calories a day even after just a couple days of less sleep. Well, that's totally me... to keep myself awake I started eating. See the irony? I did the handfuls of cereal thing which kept me awake but didn't satisfy me. So finally I added some rice milk and had a proper bowl of cereal. And that was it. I went to bed after that (not right away but I didn't keep eating, at least).
I slept like crap, and when I woke up, I could feel the fat on my thighs and stomach touching my nightshirt. I miss the time when I came here and cried looking at myself in the mirror because I was so skinny. Now I want to cry because I'm so covered in lumpy fat. I miss the days when I had no cellulite, my clothes would hang off me, and people would look at me in envy. Now I look at myself and see the jowls on my face, and while I know that no one would say I was fat, I feel that way.
I debated whether to work out and finally decided that lying in bed would be better for me since my legs and back are sore. But when I got out of bed, it was definitely "on the wrong side". I was super crabby at my mom, who was just being herself (giving me directions in a bossy way, telling me my suggestions at Costco weren't "correct"). I could feel the anger coursing through my body. Of course I want to eat. I want to take a Xanax. I want to go back to being an anorexic and controlling all the shit my life by not eating. But that's not the right thing. I just don't know what is.
I have to figure out a coping mechanism that doesn't require me to run off to write or call people so I can spend time with my parents and not rat hole myself away in the guestroom. I have to figure this all out so I can cope better when I have to go back to work, when my dad dies, when my mom needs help moving and sorting out her "new life". I want to be thin again, to have a good relationship with food and with myself. I'm just so frustrated right now I don't know what to do.
Other than get more sleep, because apparently that makes you fat. :p
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