The Thursday after Last

I. AM. ExHAUSTED.

It is hard to walk, hard to move, hard not to shake, hard to function in a semi-normal manner.

And I know the cause.

It’s my own doing.  Too much restriction, too much busyness, too much caffeine, too many laxatives (Ed laughed at that last one… He’s convinced one can never have too many laxatives).  It is also my last few moments of life as I live it, as I want to live it (?), definitely as ED wants to live it.

I am going to enter a PHP program on Thursday.  The day after tomorrow.  The day before Friday.  The day after the last week of the past of my life.

I thought I was okay with it.  I thought I was past anxiety and panic attacks, but the closer the day gets, the more minutes that tick away the more anxiety I feel, the less in control I feel.

Last night I went out to dinner with my favorite people, my sister, my brother, and his girlfriend, at my favorite restaurant, but as I pulled up and waited on them I caught myself beginning to hyperventilate (because apparently that’s a thing for me now), a panic attack nearing.  I managed to control it and force it back down, but this has not happened before.  Not with my family at a safe restaurant.

Today I went to the store where the owners were visiting and Justin practically made me tell them where I was going.  I was already stressed out about the four deviled eggs I just ate before going (that I could feel sitting in my stomach, pressing on my insides, my head saying they were begging to get out…)

And then to hear their kindness and well-wishes and encouragements.  Blatant “You WILL do it” “I know you WILL” encouragements, meant well, from the bottom of their hearts because they see the strength in me that I cannot see in myself, but I am not as encouraged about it as they are.  I doubt my capabilities to overcome this monster as wholly and completely as needs done.  I am just a little skeptical.

I have begun to realize just how anorexic I am.  How much the disease has control over me.

I have no memory.

I am freezing all the time….Like from the inside out.

I am driven to eat less and less as the day nears.

I am continually worried that my weight won’t be low enough.

I am continually worried that I won’t gain enough to suffice them while I am there.

I am beginning to see where my bones protrude. My wrists are tiny, my wedding ring is too loose, my chest cavity is emerging more clearly by the day, there is NO WAY to hide my collar bones any longer (save wearing something up to my neck and that is loose), my shoulders cave-in in  the front, are bony on top, and there is no way to hide the protruding tendons in my hands and feet.

I am almost a skeleton…..almost isn’t good enough for my brain.

I need to be cleaning (an acceptable form of exercise)…the vacuum needs run, the laundry needs changed, the car needs cleaned inside and out, I have homework to do, I need to call a couple of bill companies, pick up a bread basket so my family has enough groceries for two weeks because there isn’t enough in the house (unless one wants to eat biscuits everyday or ground hamburger)…I mean there is food, but I don’t think it’ll last til next payday and without my extra income things are going to be tight for a while.

Treatment says no gum, no caffeine, no laxatives, no triggering clothing, be prepared to have your stuff gone through.

So I am having all the caffeine I want from the day I found out til the day I leave.  Gum?  I don’t smoke without gum, so they will be kissing my bum on that one, although I might try to abide for a while.

Laxatives….

Understandable, but we (i.e. ED and I) have been thinking of ways to get around that… appropriate doses to not overdo it, appropriate times to take it and go undetected (Uh, apparently only if I want to be up all night…which ED is cool with, but I am NOT).  Not that it matters much, I took the last of what I had today and I don’t have the money to buy more so goodbye Lax.  It’s been fun…..well, no it hasn’t been fun.  It’s been painful, nauseating, weak-in-the-knees exhaustion, shaking, walking-carefully with the help of a wall, fighting with your husband, lying about taking them, lying about not taking them (happened less frequently), happy for two seconds with that lower number, two days later back to square one because your guts haven’t moved since that day and you forced yourself to eat….even said it was okay to eat because of the lost weight.

So that’s some of the fun you’ll have with laxative abuse, FYI, just in case you were wondering. (It does get worse the worse the abuse gets.)

I am hoping that treatment will dissuade some of this disorderedness.  Maybe I’ll even get to the point where I don’t care and just apply myself to the process of healing.

Nope.  That happy thought went right out the window.  You know you’ll not be able to count calories consumed or burned…. You know you aren’t good at eyeballing measurements and such to write down later.  You know you have no idea how much any movement you make burns.  THey’ll never give you walking privileges, even if it’s for mindfulness, which you love.  Nope. This will be miserable.

That’s okay ED.  I have meds to help me through this.  And I don’t care if I have to take 3 damn doses of Ativan everyday for the first month to function.  I will do it and get it done.  I will rationalize away any thought you bring to me, any disordered nerve you fire, any pure falsification of anything I am taught there.  I will will it away and if I cannot I’ll bring it to someone who can.

Fuck I have to eat.

Damnit.

I just don’t want to.

At home, in the privacy of my own home, by myself, totally fine with eating.

In a cafeteria with a bunch of people I don’t know…

FUCCCKKKKKKK.

Ugh.  And there will be introductions.  Hi, My name is Kelsi Meireis and I’ve been battling anorexia since I was about 6 or 7.  My favorite color is navy blue, unless its a bad day, then it’s black, I’m from Kansas, yes my whole life, no I don’t want to move away, it’s a beautiful place.

I think my favorite things to do are play my piano, smell old books, collect antiques, bullet journal, practice lettering, watercoloring, and slowly kill myself through deprivation of food, water, and other life-giving substances.  I am married to a wonderful man who has put up with me for a long time and probably deserves a break.  I have three wonderful girls whom I love very much, which is why I will never talk about them.   I hate cleaning house more than once or twice a week, I love horticulture and landscaping, but sociology more.  Oh and Im not here to make friends, so please save yourself the trouble.

Sound good?  It’s a work in progress.  I might tweak it here and there to let the sarcasm enunciate itself a bit more.

So I am driving myself, signing the paperwork myself, doing all the work myself, so hopefully that whole doing it myself thing works.  Like I am in charge this time.  I will take care of me (AUTHENTIC ME) first and foremost.  I will know what is going on with my case at any given time, I will know exactly what a change means, I will protect myself from the naivety and uneducatedness I experienced last time.  I will not be terrified of the unknown, but there will be no unknown and if there is too much of it, I will check myself out and go home and accomplish shit on my own.

I am certain this will cause some issues somewhere, and I am Christian, Mennonite, and believe in respecting the system, but the minute the system stops working for me, whelp that’s all folks.

I have so many unknown emotions I am experiencing.  This writing has been good for me.  Sorry for making y’all wade through the bullshit to get to the core of it, but there’s a lot of bullshit right now and I’m just sharing it as it comes.

Until Later…

So, Tell Me What You Think.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.