I think feeling alone has to be one of the hardest feeling for me to handle…
I sit here, in the dark, alone.
So alone that I can’t think of a single person I can reach out to to help ease the pain.
That is terrifying.
And what makes it even worse is that I don’t even know how I got here. How I got to a place of having nobody. Because I certainly used to have plenty.
My life has become a spiral of nothingness. I go to work, through which I find no joy. I go to school, through which I find no joy. And then I sleep. I sleep because I have nothing else to enjoy. I sleep in hope of easing the pain. I sleep because sleep is my only friend. I sleep because I have no other option.
And yet I’m exhausted. I’m tired of having no joy, no hope, no goal to strive toward, no purpose.
It’s an emptiness in my chest that resembles a black hole. So large, so dark, so void of anything that signifies life…
So where do I go from here?
Something has to change, but what? I’m stuck at my job, I go to school online, my options feel so limited.
So here I sit trying to think of a single person I can reach out to as my mind crawls towards the darkest corners of existence…
January 1, 2017 my father cut me from his health insurance.
It’s a moment I’ve been waiting for for quite some time. I have looked forward to severing this last form of connection but I’ve also dreaded it.
With it comes freedom and with it also comes pain.
The pain and fear that I may never connect with my father again pierces my heart.
I feel fragile. I feel broken. I feel the anxiety and the sadness creep up on me inconveniently throughout my days.
It’s a pain I can’t seem to articulate.
It’s a kind of pain that I just want to numb out from.
It’s an exhausting type of pain.
It drives itself deep into my being.
It makes everything ache.
And there is no band-aid or ice pack or medicine that will make it go away…
I miss him..I need a father..or a mother..either would be nice. I just need someone. Someone to tell me it’s going to be alright. Someone I can go to and feel safe to fall apart in front of for just a moment before I have to pull myself together and present strength to the world.
I need family. Something I’ve never really had…
I’ve recently been reflecting a lot on the difference between my life in recovery and my life in my anorexia and how vastly different the two are for me and yet how vague they probably appear to others.
I think for the first time in my recovery I have reached a point where I want so badly to use behaviors for some relief but the amount of knowledge I have about myself and my disease keeps me for being able to do so. Which is good, I suppose, but also extremely frustrating. I’m stuck in this terribly uncomfortable middle ground where I know I can’t use old behaviors but I’m also unsure of how to affectively utilize new, healthy coping behaviors.
I’m stuck having to feel the pain of depression, anxiety, and ptsd, where as in the past I could simply not eat or throw up in order to numb the pain. I know this is a phase of recovery that is very much necessary and important, and at the same time that doesn’t make it any easier. I’ve been stuffing my pain for YEARS (like 18 years..) and now that I am allowing myself the space to feel the pain and not run from it, 18 years is hitting me all at once.
It’s overwhelming, it’s suffocating, it’s terrifying, it feels like it will never end, and it hurts more than I could ever explain.
But I have to keep going. I have to get out of bed every day. I have to keep talking through it and taking one step after another.
And sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it…sometimes I wonder why I fight so hard. Can I be allowed to give up for once? My whole life I’ve fought like hell. Can I have little break? I’m exhausted.