So I Wrote

One unfortunate event's consequences

My back is... eh... I'll give you the TL;DR version:

My back has an awesome knack for getting crooked and very inflamed in one spot. It halts everything because it's so painful. I end up sitting or laying down a lot. A lot meaning all the time. Movement is painful. Only thing that works to fix it is a chiropractor visit and lots of pills.

I couldn't afford either for 6 weeks. No gym. So I didn't have a reason to go outside. Well, I couldn't go outside because I could barely walk. So, I couldn't challenge my emetophobia every day. I need to do that to keep it at bay. The thoughts have been creeping in. Sloooowly but surely.

I'm not afraid like I used to be. I'm not obsessive in hand washing or checking my food. The only consistent fear has been going back to the gym now that my back is starting to improve. I guess it's a fairly easy target - I'm ashamed I got thrown off track AGAIN, I'm scared to see where my fitness level is at now (I suspect tear-status), and I'm so anxious that lifting weights or doing whatever cardio will aggravate the inflammation. It's like the anxiety is a cell with receptors for only other anxieties.  "You're so out of shape now!" becomes "the gym will make you vomit because you're so out of shape now."

The gym and my eating habits are very much linked in my head too. Barely a week after my back gave out I stopped eating well. I ate stuff that made me feel sick, bloated and anxious. So much sugar. I was nauseas for weeks. My stomach hurt for weeks. I was disgusted with myself for weeks. What the hell is that kind of behaviour about? Punishment? For what? Having a weak back that no amount of core exercises seems to improve?

I really do not like getting somewhere and then something happening (see: getting very ill and bed-bound for months, father dying, getting foot run over, becoming severely depressed because of foot, and repetitive painful flare ups of my back) and losing all that progress.

If I can't go to the gym everything about me starts going downhill. I need it to feel good, to make progress in other parts of my life. And to make me less whiney and to give me some hope at maybe developing some self-esteem. I need that self esteem. I motivate myself through guilt and shame. Effective as it is... Maybe there's a gentler way.

I'm scared and limited. Not as scared and limited as I was, but still scared and limited. If I don't stop myself I'll become increasingly scared and limited. I'm jealous of the motivation and will I had this time last year. It was harder then, but easier to get on with.

Damn, writing that really made me feel a lot better. Maybe I shall actually give this bloggy thing a really good go. Maybe I'll start taking pictures of everything I eat to post on here as an extra little bit of motivation. Though, it will probably be rather boring as I am very repetitive in what I eat.

But fuck it, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

I am a tea kettle.

The pressure I build on myself is really ridiculous. "Oh you can't write anything for your blog today because you feel all shitty and it's not going to be funny, and when did you even try to write anything funny last? You're lame."

Nobody reads this blog so, in theory, I can write whatever I like because nobody is going to read it anyway. Sometimes I pretend I am just writing to a friend and I don't even know if this friend even reads my blog.

Today I cleaned my kitchen. I cleaned my kitchen after I had dinner. I had dinner after I went to the store to get cream and coke light. And brie cheese and slim jims. Before I went to the store I was asleep. I slept all day because I couldn't see the point of getting up.

During cleaning my kitchen I watched Grey's Anatomy and pretended it was as good as actually studying medicine. Which I am supposed to be doing. For two days I've not studied at all and it's the only two days in the past two weeks that I haven't had a headache.  

Now, instead of studying I am waiting for megavideo to let me back in. Usually I use megavideo's time-outs to study. Then I use Grey's Anatomy to surpress the panic that I am not smart enough to study. And surpress the panic about the exam that's in a couple weeks.

I am also surpressing panic about how I have no money and so many bills. So many bills. I am surpressing panic about how I messed up on my diet and I am terrified, completely illogically terrified, that two days of less than stellar eating will cause me to gain 20 pounds. I am also failing at surpressing panic about how my nerve damaged foot will not stop hurting again, two years after the accident. It does not want to bend and it is swollen. I am worried about this. Without my foot I can't go on walks or to the gym and without those two my back hurts all the time. I am scared about all this. I am scared about how I may get emetophobic again as we go deeper into winter and deeper into the pitch black darkness that covers this country during winter. I am scared what going on anti-anxiety medication could do to me. I am scared what not going on anti-anxiety medication  would do to me.

As usual, I am doubting and scared and fumbling about. I wish I had the eye-on-the-prize motivation I had when I was in therapy for my emetophobia. Without that therapy I don't know where to go. So I'm stuck. Stuck in PTSD land, stuck in daddy-issues land, stuck in sex-is-so-difficult land, stuck in not-good-enough land. I don't know where to go and the pressure that I'm building inside myself is scary.

Suddenly I have plenty to say

Well, two topics at least. But I will be sensible and not write about the one that is currently in an upset, because it will bring out the Hysterical Woman that dwells inside me and I will name the problem unfixable and I might as well just end it all because GOD WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE THIS WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

Sensible as I am though I will just write about something that embarasses me to no end. And yet confuses me. As I have written about here. Yes, weight! The next most googled thing after "hot teen pornzzz" I'm sure.

You would probably never guess it as I am a fat bastard and all, but I love fitness. I'm actually rather fit under this layer of protective blubber. I go to the gym a lot and I work out until I want to weep from the pain. Like reading, internetting, snarking about snarkable things, it is a great hobby of mine and keeps me from such dull things as depression and complete hermitisation. I recently started dance classes which, I promise you, is a sight to behold! Limbs flailing everywhere.

My love for torturing myself in a healthy manner coupled with my LCHF diet (low carb, high fat. I will tell you more!) has made me lose over twenty pounds. But then I was stagnant there. Everytime I would hit a certain number on the scale I would freak out because under that number I would feel naked. Naked without my blubber. So I would sabotage myself by eating carbs. I talked about it with a good friend of mine and she told me to approach it like I did my emetophobia. Scared of being thin? Be thin. And gosh darn it wouldn't you just believe it's working? At this rate I will be thin by Christmas.  No, really! I won't be gross. You will want to bang me!  

(Pause for laughter)

Crickets? Really? The internet is a tough crowd.

Aaaaaaaanyway. LCHF. Many people will recoil and say, through their hand that they slapped to their lips in shock, "But fat! Fat is the devil! You will clog your arteries and then die 500 pounds overweight!". Actually I won't. Studies have shown that eating this way actually improves the fat levels in the blood. Hurray! Anything fat you've dreamt of eating? You can have it (providing it's low carb of course. Guideline is 5g of carbs per 100g of food product) Yes, it is as awesome as it sounds.

As well as making me thin it has: Removed any traces of bad skin on me, given me more energy, I am no longer bloated ever, my IBS has GREATLY improved, and my moods are stable as my blood sugars aren't affected by what I eat... Dudes, my sugar cravings are g-o-n-e. If you know me but at all you will know I could down liters upon liters of pepsi no problem and polish of some chocolate goodness in one fell chew - and still be craving more. I read in a book a few years ago that children of alcoholics have a much bigger chance of reacting to sugar like a drug. Sugar is my drug. If I eat more than 25 grams of carbs a day my sugar addiction is triggered and it is hell. Sugar makes me lose control. So I lost sugar in all it's forms. 

Fat has more calories per gram than carbs blahblah. Yes, but fat is so filling that I eat under 1000 calories a day and I'm full the entire time. I am losing, on average, 2 pounds a week and I am never hungry.

What do I eat? Meats, creamy sauces, butter, eggs, vegetables that grow above soil. I make broccoli/cauliflower mash, which I swear is better than mashed potatoes. Everytime I have it I am surprised because holy crap! It is as good as I remembered. Sure, sometimes I miss nachos with my taco meat. Sometimes I miss devouring a bag of candy infront of a movie. But, internet, I would like to be thin now plz. I miss my clothes. I don't want to have stomach cramps every day anymore and look 5 months pregnant with bad skin and no energy. And I really don't want to be held captive by my fucking childhood anymore. I am not a stripper! I refuse to have daddy issues all my life!

When I am at my goal weight I will allow myself to eat carby things once a week. And, yes! yeees!, this Christmas I will cheat on my LCHF-boyfriend like a slutty ho-bag. My mum's potato salad. Christmas chocolates. My brother's rocky road candy. And, if my mum keeps her promise, wheat-free gingerbread cookies. Glögg. So much glögg.

Anyway, I see I have gone on for a while now.

Summary: Hysterical woman wants to be thin, becoming thin by eating fat. Strippers.

 

P.S - I miss you, friend.