#Ramadan2016

So it’s almost Ramadan and for those of  you who know me, you know this month is especially triggering for all of us disorder Muslims. I’ve decided I’m going to fast this month, even though it’s going to be incredibly difficult, I think I’ll take it one day at a time.

So without further ado, lets get positive and lay out our Ramadan Goals.

1. Finish reading the whole Quran (splitting it btw 20 days/5 prayers a day)
2. Go to Taraweeh every night – whether I’m praying or not
3. Not watching any TV
4. Watching an Islamic lecture a day
5. Reading two Islamic books through the month
6. Focusing more on my writing
7. Using my skills as sadaqa (cooking, cleaning, tutoring, volunteering …)
8. Making a dua journal

Today

Today I had coffee for breakfast. Black and no sugar. It was bitter but I swallowed it down and told myself I’d grow to like it.

I skipped breakfast so I could eat lunch without plaguing guilt. I won’t be having anymore food today, just liquids.

I’m smiling because I’m told it’s supposed to help, I’m trying to distract myself but it’s not working so well. I’m too anxious to do anything, I can’t even sit through a show.

 

Ashamed

I guess the most over whelming feeling I have is feeling ashamed. I feel like an over grown child who has everything she needs and still chooses to be semi sick and never fully better. Like I’m hanging on too tightly to being disorder so I never have to be normal. Like I should be better, smarter, stronger, healthier. I am ashamed of my weight and my not being fully recovered and that I’m behind on courses and it’s all so overwhelming. Most days I choose not to think about it.

Hello, it’s me

It’s been quite a while since my last post and I won’t lie and say it was because I have been busy. It wasn’t. I didn’t want to talk about it, “it” being everything.

I ended up dropping some courses, by some I mean 3. Which means I’m taking one online course and one regular course where I go to campus once a week. To make up for this I have been working, nothing fancy, a typical job where my boss breathes down my neck and regularly makes me feel incompetent. But it’s a book store! So I refuse to quit.

Family wise I have been forcing myself to be more present and interact with my family more. Which has been really positive, as they do genuinely make me happier. Even though my first instinct is to want to be alone.

Eating disorder wise. I don’t even fucking know. I ate pasta, more than once. I’ve been eating rice. I’ve started eating avocados more. I’ve gained weight. I’ve had to put away my ‘skinny’ clothes, so their not a constant reminder. I threw my gym membership in the trash and changed my bank account so they can’t keep charging me. I feel fat. I eat chips but still won’t eat anything fried. I haven’t stepped on a scale in over a month.

I’m scared about how much I will hate myself when I do step on it. I drink tea without any sugar. I always drink a cup of water before I eat anything. I skip lunch more often than not. Some days I fast, not religiously, I just refuse to eat anything all day.

I’m getting better and most days I’m happy about that. Tonight I am not. Tonight I feel fatter than ever and I wonder why I am still allowing my fat fat self to still be eating. I’m so scared that soon I won’t know how to throw up, and I’ll have too much self compassion to make myself starve. Then I won’t have my eating disorder, I won’t have ANYTHING. I know that not realistic or true. But feelings man, I swear they don’t listen to reason.

Keep me in your duas’

A collision

I made an appointment for therapy which has me anxious and nervous. I think about calling to cancel almost everyday but as tempted as I am, I’m counting it as a sign of strength that I haven’t done that yet.

I also weighed myself, which I’m sure I needn’t tell you is never a good thing. I’ve gained weight. Of course I have, thats what happens when you try to stop restricting as much, allow yourself to eat more and stop exercising because you don’t know how to use exercise as anything but a punishment.

But I can be okay with weight gain.

I’ve only weighed myself 5 times today and am only having coffee.

I am trying to deal. I keep switching from trying to muster up some body positivity and reminding myself that my weight is not who I am too writing up a list of acceptable food.

So far the list of acceptable food is winning. I don’t even know if it’s worth going to therapy if I keeping running head first towards restriction at the sight of weight gain.

I know all that fluff about – yes, you’ll gain weight when recovering because your metabolism is destroyed and your body still thinks it’s in starvation mode, but soon enough you’ll lose weight. Soon enough is too far away for me; my hand shakes at the thought of getting fatter. 

I’m avoiding all people. By people I mean friends, I’ve cancelled meet ups and I avoid going to buildings that I know my friends will be in. I don’t want anyone to see me, it’s a miracle that I still come to class.

To be totally honest I am restricting again and it’s a pretty low number. I don’t care if it’s self destructive, counter productive or self harming my main goal, only goal, is too lose these 6 pounds that I’ve gained.

An Exercise in kindness

Things I did that were good

1. I was kind
2. I was helpful
3. I was involved

Successes

1. I ate lunch
2. I acknowledged hunger
3. I didn’t stay in bed all day

Oh the things

I got a response from my old therapist that I saw twice since Dr.M left, and she does not think I’m ready to join the Eating disorder group therapy. After having only seen me twice and even then they weren’t full sessions, a whole 4 months ago; I don’t think she knows me enough to make an informed decision.

But now I kind of hate her – I didn’t like her to begin with, hence only doing two sessions– so not going to group seems okay, seeing as she leads it.

Her recommendation is that I join the hospitals eating disorder program.

I’m not ready for that. I don’t want to be in a hospital. I don’t want to be that sick. 

When I got her email response the first thing I wanted to do was punch myself. Not even worth therapy I thought. Then I started to count calories. It was a surprisingly low day only 300 calories, and even I couldn’t be mad at that. 

I haven’t been really able to eat since then. Maybe one meal a day, lots of fruit and granola bars. I try to remember to be kind to myself but it’s hard.

 I want to heal on my own. I want to be so sick that they don’t even think about refusing, fragile enough to break.

 

An An Anxiety – Adulthood?

Breath.

Breath.

I had an anxiety attack in my lecture theater, it was fan-fucking-tastic. Luckily I was able to get out once my knees started knocking and breathing started becoming difficult. Both which weren’t too obvious.

I found an empty room. Prayed, cried, tried to do a breathing exercise to ground myself. Started to bargain – if only I could make it through out the day I would do anything, even not eat. That seemed to work. Knowing I could control something. No calories, no food, no temptation, the fatigue, the ache of hunger, the coldness, the sleepiness, the headaches. Familiar. 

Breath.

Shut up and get your shit together.

Point A to A

The thing is you are not a room, you are not a house. You can’t not be lived in and you can not live within yourself. Run run run. In circles. Mind boggling circles. Let’s talk about healing. Let’s not.

The four times I threw up this week I said I would not care, and after all of them I cared. I hated my own failure. Three out of the four times I vomited blood, that one time I wonder only if I wasn’t trying hard enough.

I toss myself forward only to wrench myself back. It’s the impossibility of going nowhere and always moving.

Part of me has a chiding voice and sounds like a doctor, she is brisk and always right, she wants compassion. But there’s another side and she knows how to count everything. She overpowers with number and fears. Fat, failing, failure, predictable, average, not enough, emotional, unwanted. Her magic lies in starvation and the careful calculation of laxatives.

My parents are going to Umrah, I’ve deiced I’m not going to eat anything while they are gone.

 

Fighting

My mom came to pick up me and my bothers from my aunt’s and uncle’s place, since the roads have gotten really icy. My mother and I had a really loud argument and my uncle took my side and while my aunt took my mom’s.

I hate fighting with her and it yet it feels like that’s all we do. I ran out of the house and took a 2 hour walk, sadly I only had 6$ on me so I could only afford a latte to comfort me on my walk.

I came back past dark and this only made things worse as we weren’t able to leave tonight. This means I get to share a bed with a woman who is extremely pissed at me and we won’t get home on schedule.

Somehow everything is always my fault.

So much for finding peace.