Compresson Stockings
I truly feel like a freak now. I have a prescription for compression stockings. Compression stockings. I’m in my 20's!!! But oh god, edema is back so badly now and my shoe choices just dwindled as a result of it. There are only so many shoes you can wear with puffy feet! Boo :( However, despite the discomfort and ugliness of it all, it gives me some perverse comfort in knowing that I'm putting my body through hell, thus doing a "good job" at being eating disordered. A huge theme in my life is not feeling deserving and not feeling validated. The only way I have managed to feel some sort of worth is by being thin. Thinness also gives me leverage against my mother.
I hate (yes, hate, it's a strong word but it fits here) the burden of "living up to your potential". I have heard that phrase so many times and it makes me want to flush that potential right down the toilet. To those whom much is given, much is expected. Well, fuck, I never asked for any of this. In some ways I think I strip myself of my potential by having an eating disorder. I get people to stop expecting me to be able to achieve x y or z. When all they want is for you to live rather than die, life is a lot simpler.
I wonder how they put up with me at work. I was doing the "head nod" thing all afternoon where you start to fall asleep and end up catching yourself inches before your head hits the desk. These days it's more common than not that my supervisor asks me something and I for the life of me cannot remember. I've sent things via interoffice mail and not remembered where I've sent them until they find their way back to me with a confused sticky-note attached from the recipient. Physical illness doesn't scare me as much as losing my mind does, and I can see that happening now...
I hate (yes, hate, it's a strong word but it fits here) the burden of "living up to your potential". I have heard that phrase so many times and it makes me want to flush that potential right down the toilet. To those whom much is given, much is expected. Well, fuck, I never asked for any of this. In some ways I think I strip myself of my potential by having an eating disorder. I get people to stop expecting me to be able to achieve x y or z. When all they want is for you to live rather than die, life is a lot simpler.
I wonder how they put up with me at work. I was doing the "head nod" thing all afternoon where you start to fall asleep and end up catching yourself inches before your head hits the desk. These days it's more common than not that my supervisor asks me something and I for the life of me cannot remember. I've sent things via interoffice mail and not remembered where I've sent them until they find their way back to me with a confused sticky-note attached from the recipient. Physical illness doesn't scare me as much as losing my mind does, and I can see that happening now...