This is my life. This isn’t a life.

Wake up, run hands over body to check for overnight weight gain.

Drag self out of bed. If I stand up and the room goes black then I know I’m on track.

Put on the kettle.  Make coffee.  A taste acquired through anorexia .

Strip off.  Weigh self.  A good day will see weight loss.  A bad day, weight gain.  You have to weigh yourself before you can eat or drink anything.  You have to weigh yourself naked.  No more pj days for me.

Slowly get dressed.  Exhaustion makes it difficult to do everything.

Wearing seven layers and still not warm.

Drink coffee.  Possibly have dry cereal for breakfast.

Then drag self to work.  Walk seems like forever.  Have to take the lift one floor.

More coffee.  Mainline diet pepsi.  Countdown minutes till lunch.  Lunch, which can barely be called that.  Constant counting of calories.  Working out the possibilities of food combinations.  What can I have for tea? If I have that then I can’t have the other thing.  How can I reduce calorie content of foods?  Constantly thinking.  Constantly counting.

Countdown minutes till I can leave.  Struggle to get to the end of the day.  Trying to remember how to hold conversation.  Pretense of normality.

Dragging self home is almost impossible.  Miles and miles of painful exhausted steps.

Surrounded by mess and dirty dishes, force self to cook.

Eat watching dvds.

Stay, stuck, on the sofa.

Bed. Dreams of food.

Start again.

This is my life.

 

This isn’t a life.

 

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One thought on “This is my life. This isn’t a life.”

  1. Hugs! I feel your pain my love! In my on way through my own journey I understand. And it hurts! I am so sorry! Know you are heard! Hang on you can make it! ❤️

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