Saturday, May 5, 2012

Going down?

Another day of rapid cycling. The morning was wonderful - I woke, took the dog for a ride, brought breakfast home for my son (and the dog), and went shopping.

Shopping was fine, for the most part. I chose new flooring and paint colors for the house, and decided on a few other home improvement matters. I smiled at people, wished them good morning, walked with a spring in my step - it was very enjoyable...for a while. Honestly, I was probably trying too damn hard. I know that I do that. I know it annoys people. It is a chore to deal with my mania.

We're slipping now. The crowds of rude and stupid people make me very angry. It is not uncommon for me to let loose a crazy mix of cussing, obscene gestures, aggressive stances, angry faces - all of which make most people back off and walk away. Some challenge me and that is most unwise on their part. I will tear your face off. Nothing like that happened today - at least nothing physical, anyway.

I was so happy this morning. Perhaps not really, but it was pleasant. Then I spent time with the gen pop on a busy Saturday and it all went to shit. Even worse, I decided that I should strip down and weigh myself because I was feeling rather thin. Big mistake. Naked, no food, dehydrated, and certain I would see a wonderful number on the scale, only to see the biggest number in my life.

What. The. Fuck.

Trap door opens, I fall to the depths of despair. I had my first bite of food of the day at 2:30 this afternoon, after the weigh in. It was a hard-boiled egg. One bite and I vomited immediately. Then I ate the rest of that egg and had another - then some cottage cheese. We had to go back out and I wanted to make a low-carb dinner - a pasta-free lasagna made with lean ground chicken, cheeses and spinach. We've had it before and it's good. I bought everything to make this for dinner, and then the negative self talk bubbled to the surface ...

"You're fatter than you've ever been, you fat fucking loser. Your face looks bigger than that super moon in the sky. Your head is gigantic - way to go pulling that hair back - you look like a lazy, fat-headed piece of shit. Your stomach is gross and fat. Your face is under so much fat that all you see is a blob of ... who cares ... it's ugly. Just fucking die. Why are you here? Why do you even bother brushing your hair? Why did you even bother getting your hair cut? Who cares about your hair? That $30 could have been used for something that someone else needed, you selfish bitch. Eat the popcorn - all of it. NO - do NOT hide that licorice. Ha - weakling - just because you hid the licorice doesn't mean that you won't eat all of it later, and you will. Eat the leftover mashed potatoes and gravy ... that's it - tastes good, right?  Go ahead and cry.  What a weak little bitch. You can't keep your fat face shut long enough to lose a pound. Your husband is an idiot to stay with you. Look at yourself. Don't you kiss him back, you repulsive blob, don't you do it you repulsive pig."

Here I sit - so tired - tearing at my skin because I should be as ugly as I feel. There is a knot in my chest and I feel ... nothing. I feel absolutely nothing at all.

I keep waking up and taking the brave steps necessary to find a solution to these difficult moments, but it is such hard work. How long will it take? Will I be happy tomorrow? Will I make it until Tuesday when the Lithium therapy finally begins? Will I live the three weeks until the Lithium starts to work? What if it doesn't work? Will I have the strength to wait for another medicine to work?

I would not ask these questions if I really wanted to die, but if I did cease to exist, people would move on, without the trouble that is ME.

Medicine and bed. Now. Everything is always better in the light of day.

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Regards, TMR