I’ve mentioned before that ny dad just doesn’t get it. No matter how I try to explain my eating disorder, he just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. Tonight I have, for your viewing pleasure, another example. Here is a conversation I just had with him.
Dad: How much do you use your bike each day?
Me: It varies. Usually between 3 and 6 hours.
Dad: Great job!
Dad: Do me a favor, tomorrow, after you finish on the bike, do an hour for me.
Me: Ok, Dad.
Dad: Haha, yeah right.
Me, in my head: You have no idea.
Tonight, I am terribly listless. Normally while using my bike, I watch stuff on Netflix. Tonight, nothing seems interesting. Nothing on tv, nothing on the computer, nothing in my home seems to hold any interest. I’m not even that interested in exercising, I just can’t escape the demons.
So, I am back on my bike. Bored and tired and disinterested, waiting for the magic number that says I can go to sleep.
I went to a friend’s house this afternoon to play games. We played Quelf, Bezzerwizzer, Mau, King’s Corner, and Rummy. We also had this little girl to help up play. She kept trying to eat the pieces and cards.
Two hours into my workout, I had to stop.
I couldn’t breathe, I was very dizzy and nearly falling off the bike and losing my vision (which is the precursor to passing out), and my side felt like I had torn it open. What the hell?
So, I very reluctantly stopped. I hated myself for stopping. I hated my body for not doing what I wanted it to do. I hated that stopping meant leaving myself vulnerable to binging and purging.
I’ve had 12 grapes today. I’m afraid to eat more. I don’t understand how I can be terrified to eat and simultaneously binge. I have the stupidest brain in the world.
So, I’m resting now. I tried drinking water, but it was making me nauseous, so I stopped that. My plan is to avoid eating, rest, and exercise some more before bed.
I see the mental health guy again in the morning. I’m not looking forward to it for multiple reasons, one of which being that he keeps telling me to go to the doctor and I keep forgetting to actually call my doctor and set up an appointment. Ugh. I’m going to try to remember to do that in the morning before I leave for my appointment. I wrote myself a sticky note. Wish me luck.
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I just realized today what’s on the cup I keep in the bathroom for taking my laxatives. Is that telling or what?
I’ve gained almost 6 pounds this week. How??
I workout at least 3 hours a days, some days more, yesterday 6. I purge everything I eat, I use laxatives and diet pills, and still, I gain. I am seriously at a loss.
I’m terrified that when I start PHP, with not purging, taking anything, and not exercising, that I’m going to balloon up. I keep crying, even though I’m trying not to think about it.
I hate this body. I wish I could slice it off and crawl out of it. It’s stupid, and doesn’t understand science, apparently. I give up on it.
I’m going to go use my bike.
I’m lying here in my bed…still. It’s officially morning. I can’t lie still. I shake my legs to diminish, slightly, the pain. They ache. It’s not muscle soreness from the bike, just a deep, painful ache. Usually, this is a sign that my potassium or magnesium is low.
I do feel the muscle soreness, however. Every shake and every movement is a reminder of the hours spent on my bike yesterday. I stayed on it until 2am. Four hours ago. Yet, each tender reminder hurts less than the ache, so it’s worth aggravating the soreness.
The birds are singing outside my window. I wish they would stop. They are so chipper and I am so tired.
I want to get up and weigh myself. I want to get up and use my bike. I want to get up an weigh, then exercise, then weigh again. Instead, I lie here, legs twitching and shaking, begging for sleep.
I fear it will never come.
It’s 5am. I can’t sleep. The Ambien didn’t help. The sun is coming up and I have yet to sleep a wink.
Later today, I’m supposed to be getting together with a friend to play board and card games. I hope I’m lucid enough to play.