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So..........................................................................................................
My mental health is wobbly at best. I've got severe chronic PTSD (as of DSM-V being published in a few weeks) and a host of secondary symptoms. I see my doctor (an actual MD) 2-3 times a week, and I've got 14 different prescription medications current. I've been on disability and actively working on treatment for almost 4 years. I may have permanent nerve damage limiting function in one hand because of it. You can ask about the roots of it if you like, I'm pretty open about it, but be warned that one person, after hearing too much, required therapy herself. PM me if you want the 2-3 sentence version. Suffice it to say, I'm pretty fucked in the head.
I'm not bragging. Too many people now feel the need to show their victim badge at any opportunity, and demand special treatment. That sickens me, TBH. Any narrative that goes "Oh, look at me! Someone hurt me once, and doesn't that make me SPEH-SHUL!!!!!!!!!!" just makes me point and laugh. That's not how real trauma works.
So, I say this not looking for attention, but for forgiveness. I fell off the wagon today. Hard.
All I ate today were cupcakes, doughnuts, ice cream and pastries. I couldn't shove the sugared baked goods into my mouth fast enough. And then I bought a bottle of wine on my way home, and drank it all with a big serving of flavoured rice. I don't have the courage to log it in my food journal here, but I know how bad it is. So many carbs, so much sugar, so many empty calories. No nutritional value in anything I put in my mouth today whatsoever.
Now, I have full permission from my doctor to self-medicate with alcohol (so long as I tell him about every drop I drink, and I have a list of which meds CANNOT -on risk of coma- be mixed with it), but I didn't realise until today to what level I used calories as a crutch.
**************TRIGGER WARNING!!!! SKIP THE BELOW, I WON'T BE INSULTED!!!!!!!!!*******
In my past, I've STARVED. Not as in depriving myself in an attempt at a diet. In the sense where nothing I could do, including begging everyone I knew and strangers on the street, would put food in my mouth for a few days in a row. Gone to bed so hungry, I was woken in the night by dry heaves. Had my sweat begin to smell like freshly baked bread. Actual textbook starvation, where your frontal cortex activity shuts down to conserve energy. It was bad.
I haven't ever dealt with that trauma, as there have always been bigger, more pressing issues on my therapy plate. But I'm getting to a point in my therapy where my physical health (in non-immediate matters like weight and fitness) can become a consideration. I think maybe I can't be as dismissive of it as I have been. In the past I've put it under the greater heading of "Things I Was Forced To By Persons Unnamed Here", but maybe those issues (and foods in general) are major enough to require their own heading in the major list of "Things I Need To Renegotiate A Relationship With".
For those of you reading this, I'm sorry to dump. But writing for an outside audience can help clarify my thoughts. And when I'm just about drunk enough to post publicly, it happens to be just about the same time that I'm just about drunk enough to honestly tell myself what's really going on in this dark and scary skull of mine. I only have a day when I can't regulate what goes in my mouth every few months, but this was massively one of those, and I feel the need to record what I'm going through at the time I'm going through it. Thanks for your patience.
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