Day 3 (-)...
I think it was a mistake. Giving them up.
Whilst I have no doubt that I can do it, just knowing that they are removed as an option for the next 37 days is having a more dramatic effect than I had anticipated.
It only serves to exacerbate other behaviours, which are not yet too pronounced. But we are only 3 days in.
I'm edgy. Angry. Volatile. Tearful. Dissociated. Isolating.
It didn't occur to me that I wouldn't be able to stop. That this is not a game. I hate these realisations. It is difficult to take a cold hard look at this and realise how far gone I am.
Last night I spent around two hours in tears, unable to stop. I wanted to re-read 'Wasted' to give me some perspective. To, if anything, re-assure myself that I am not so bad. Not in too deep. It did the complete opposite. It showed me that it never entirely goes away, that you have to learn to love the fight to live, not to die.
I think the problem is that there are reasons for this, there is pain, hurt, love lost, longing, and regret. That I don't know what to do with. I am aware that this will not be over until these things are dealt with. But all the evidence, all the statistics, all the testimonies... 'You learn to live with it, but you never forget'.
So this is it ? My future ? this ?
And apart from the reasons is the habit, the addiction, the pattern. My ingrained response to trauma, criticism, failure, any type of adverse circumstance is outwardly positive, fluffy, unaffected. The inside is a straight down the middle split. A separation. The person I show on the outside bears little resemblance to the inner with regards to these situations. I appear cold, indifferent, uncaring.
Inside ?
I can't explain.
At work today, in the lab. For some reason a box of blades were on the bench. They distracted me. I couldn't take my eyes off them.
I'm fantasising of purging. Anything. Everything.
Ipecac, if i could get my hands on some.
I'm OK. Functioning. Working. Sleeping. Not quite got the eating bit nailed though. Also, more than a little scared.
Whilst I have no doubt that I can do it, just knowing that they are removed as an option for the next 37 days is having a more dramatic effect than I had anticipated.
It only serves to exacerbate other behaviours, which are not yet too pronounced. But we are only 3 days in.
I'm edgy. Angry. Volatile. Tearful. Dissociated. Isolating.
It didn't occur to me that I wouldn't be able to stop. That this is not a game. I hate these realisations. It is difficult to take a cold hard look at this and realise how far gone I am.
Last night I spent around two hours in tears, unable to stop. I wanted to re-read 'Wasted' to give me some perspective. To, if anything, re-assure myself that I am not so bad. Not in too deep. It did the complete opposite. It showed me that it never entirely goes away, that you have to learn to love the fight to live, not to die.
I think the problem is that there are reasons for this, there is pain, hurt, love lost, longing, and regret. That I don't know what to do with. I am aware that this will not be over until these things are dealt with. But all the evidence, all the statistics, all the testimonies... 'You learn to live with it, but you never forget'.
So this is it ? My future ? this ?
And apart from the reasons is the habit, the addiction, the pattern. My ingrained response to trauma, criticism, failure, any type of adverse circumstance is outwardly positive, fluffy, unaffected. The inside is a straight down the middle split. A separation. The person I show on the outside bears little resemblance to the inner with regards to these situations. I appear cold, indifferent, uncaring.
Inside ?
I can't explain.
At work today, in the lab. For some reason a box of blades were on the bench. They distracted me. I couldn't take my eyes off them.
I'm fantasising of purging. Anything. Everything.
Ipecac, if i could get my hands on some.
I'm OK. Functioning. Working. Sleeping. Not quite got the eating bit nailed though. Also, more than a little scared.