I still feel plagued by the depression. It is all I can do to get out of bed, shower, dress and function. Today, I stayed in bed a long time, hoping to not have to see the woman I live with. It’s not that I don’t like her or anything, I just didn’t want to interact. That probably smacks of isolating. Unfortunately, I didn’t time it right and I got upstairs just as she was leaving, thus I was forced to interact. I made social pleasantries while deciding what to eat. And then she went off to work and I was relieved by the quiet.
I struggled with breakfast. I made myself oatmeal and counted the calories (this behavior just keeps hanging on). 2 packets oatmeal + approx 2/3 cup of soy milk = about 372 calories. And I panicked a little bit. 372 calories in one meal was more than I was eating in one day back in February. Okay…so I soothed myself by saying that I don’t want to be that sick again and I can eat it. But it was one of those meals where I just was choking it down and my stomach was rebelling. It is so hard to eat when you feel like you want to throw up. And I know the nausea is psychosomatic, so I tried really hard to force myself, but I couldn’t eat all the oatmeal. I am pretty sure I ate my required minimum amount, so there is that at least. Oh, except that (according to the PHP meal routine) I am supposed to have fruit and nuts with my oatmeal and I didn’t. I’ve been skipping components regularly at breakfasts. I did drink my Gatorade though. (Another 140 calories, not that anyone is counting.) Actually, if I am totally honest, I am skipping components here and there across all meals. It’s such a slippery slope. I don’t want to be sick and I don’t want to lose control. At the moment, I am finding a “middle ground” but it is not a functional or healthy middle ground. I need to stop the restricting. And I need to accept that I won’t always have control and that I can find other ways to manage my feelings that aren’t hurting my body.
And then I feel so depressed. Like, “Why bother to go to yoga this morning?” And now I am back on my bed, still in my pajamas, feeling like bursting into tears and just wanting to go back to sleep and ignore the day. FML, FML, FML.
And speaking of FML…I have been really worried about a friend who is struggling and totally skipping meals….Does that make me look like a hypocrite for restricting? <sigh> Now the self-judgment is creeping in. But my answer would be no, I am not a hypocrite. She is struggling. I am struggling. But I haven’t given up, I do, for the most part, accept help. And I am still eating. I think what is most significant is that I haven’t given up. Is this fucking hard? Yup. But I can put on my big girl pants and push myself harder to not engage in calorie counting and restricting. Ugh…except my immediate thought, like even as I type this? “If only I knew how much I weigh, then I would know if I am doing it right.”
Sometimes, I feel like I am banging my head on a wall.