I have been flat hunting this weekend.
It has sapped my energy leaving me deflated and overwhelmed.
It’s not the 100 people that are vying for each room that’s got me worried; it’s the revival of a few deep seated insecurities and the sense that I am floundering out of my depth. Yet again. I have caught up, in some respects, but scratch the surface and there is a great big hole –
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I haven’t written about food for a while. Partly because I’ve been doing really well with relaxing around it; and partly because my mind has been addled by other things. Food is, however, back on the agenda at the moment, and yet again, it’s linked to ‘the move’. I think this move might throw up a lot of skeletons in the next few weeks, so I apologise in advance…
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It is 1.48 am. My sleep has been a mess for months now. I started trying about 2 hours ago with a book and a hot chocolate. At midnight, I moved to my sofa. Now I am panicking and it feels like I can’t breathe. Before tomorrow has even started, we’ve got off on the wrong foot.
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This is a blurt post.
There’s stuff going on in my head that I can’t quite seem to work out. Passing snippets that have paired themselves off without quite explaining the pairing, and insights that still remain partially hidden. There is one common thread. It is the word fear.
Fear.
I’m scared.
Belly scared. Paralysed scared. Scared silly….yet not quite sure of the source (there’s so many); nor, if I’m honest, of the emotion (it’s just what I always feel).
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I have stepped out of my comfort zone. I didn’t realise what a leap it was, until I reached for cover – and it had disappeared. I am still, it seems, hiding under my eating disorder; and not quite sure whether without it, I am enough.
This time it was my writing, which shows just how far the illnesses’ influence extends.
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Last night, I saw a man hit another man, and I haven’t yet come up for air.
It is, I appreciate, an extreme reaction; and, after a silky soft childhood, I’m not quite sure where it’s come from; but, it has thrown me back, and got me scared, and I feel like I’ve removed the rose tinted glasses and done a double take on a very different reality –
This has happened before.
It is not the first time that the world has suddenly seemed a dark and terrifying place, and it doesn’t seem to take much to scare me -
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I have been asked to talk about the things that kept my eating disorder going for so long. The ‘maintaining factors’, in medical speak.
It is difficult to answer this now, when the reality of so many lost years feels like an open wound, and, if I could go back and violently shake my previous selves, I would.
It is hard not to turn to myself and say, yes, Melissa, what exactly did you think you were gaining from choosing an eating disorder over the things that most people aspire to, like jobs and husbands and families and friends…
Maintaining factor 1: Oblivion
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