I went to bed early last night. Partly because I was up all weekend playing video games and drinking with my brothers, and partly because I just didn’t know what else to do. Today, I should be working on school, but I’m not. This afternoon I should be going to treatment, but I don’t want to. I could be knitting, but I just don’t have the motivation for anything. I barely got through a shower. And I had to really work up to taking it. And only because I knew I actually can’t skip treatment tonight because it could jeopardize my insurance coverage. If I wasn’t going anywhere (like I want) I wouldn’t have showered. I stayed in bed 2 hours late. I haven’t eaten today. I’m considering taking a nap, just to pass time.
I was thinking this morning about checking out a local eating disorder support group, but then I began to wonder why I wanted to go. Was it because I want to work toward recovery again?
No, that wasn’t it.
I think my true motivation was that I feel so disconnected and isolated right now that I just wanted to connect with someone, in person, who gets it.
Then I wondered whether it was appropriate to attend a recovery-themed support group if you don’t actually want to recover.
I don’t know the answer to that.
I also began to wonder how I could find motivation to want to recover. Or whether I even want to want to recover.
I don’t know.
I considered this morning pursuing treatment again. Again, though, not because I wanted to recover. I miss the community feel of being in treatment. I miss the bubble of being consistently around others who understand what it’s like, who laugh at my morbid, ED-related jokes, who can relate to the fears and irrational thoughts.
Part of me feels guilty that I don’t want to recover because I feel like I’m “supposed to” recover. Like it’s the morally right thing to do, abd therefore I am morally wrong for not doing it. Not even that my actions are wrong, but that I myself am wrong.
Anyway, I should wrap this up. I’m in the chair at the dentist’s office and I want to publish this before he comes in.
I bought clothes last night. I desperately needed to, but I dread buying clothes. I do so less than once a year.
This is my method:
- Go to the store during non-peak hours
- Go straight to the area with the type of clothing I wish to buy, this time, summer dresses
- Pull out every article that I might even remotely like and is around what size I think I might be this time, sometimes buying 2 or three sizes of the same thing just to be safe.
- Go home and try everything on.
- Sort things into “fits,” “slightly too small, need to lose weight,” and “too big or too small, return”.
- May or may not get around to actually returning what’s too big or small.
- Work hard to lose weight to be comfortable in the items that are just slightly too small.
I also only wear loose/flowing skirts and dresses. I don’t wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Skirts and dresses work better for someone who’s weight is constantly fluctuating, in my opinion. Also, I’m far more comfortable in them. In pants, I feel like everyone is looking at my body, and that every fold and bulge and layer of fat shows. I can’t feel calm ever in pants. Wearing a comfy dress is like wearing a socially acceptable and fashionable blanket all the time.
Last night, I bought 5 new dresses that fit, 4 dresses that “fit” (other people think they fit, but I feel are too tight), and 2 that didn’t fit (one was too big, the other too small).
Now to lose enough to feel comfortable in the smaller dresses.