This is a place to put my crazy, my bad memories, my foulness, my anxiety. It's better here than down my throat.
This may get ugly. These confessions do not belong anywhere else. I hve told myself that the delete-key is not an option here. I must vomit forth onto the screen and purge every crazy angle and tendril until they are explored and exposed and gone from me.
This is for me.
I need help. I need something. I fear for my life. My stomach is so large that I have a 6" deep mass that hangs from my body. It is sometimes called an apron. It hangs 4" down so that my pelvic area is often covered. It pains me. It has crippled my spine and caused muscle malformation and death in my hips. I can't "hop" out of bed without serious forethought as I can hear my vertebra grinding together. I have given some serious thought into going on disability. Because of my weight. There has been no sudden accident, no event. There has only been the 37 years of ongoing trauma.
My husband does not know that I'm writing this. He has often encouraged me to take time and write (my scifi stories), but I need to do this. If he is willing to allot me time in the mornings, I will journal until every awful hateful thing is gone.
I had to let the dog in just now. I had to walk through the kitchen. There are Doritos in there. The binge from last night and this morning is still rising in my throat, but I want to eat those chips. I am swollen and thirsty from the salt I've consumed in the past few days (thanksgiving), and yet I want to forego water and eat half of a party-sized bag of doritos.
I posted a huge embarrassing confession to my FA group on fb. I was in the middle of my binge and calling out for help and support. It took until today for anyone to write. And they suggested that I look into the FA website and sign up. Ha! I have no $$. My counselor dropped me and I think she's an idiot anyway. I believe that my current doctor would be willing to listen and take my addiction mostly seriously, however she pushes. She would demand weigh-ins and would probably tell me to stop breastfeeding Oliver so that I could go on medication. Or perhaps even get admitted. I can't. It would be hard enough to admit this to anyone, especially my super cool doctor... but I also can't leave my kids. I can't send them to stay with anyone. I can't take time for myself.
I know a friend of mine that would try, but I don't trust my children there. Everytime I've let my guard down, they come home injured or filthy. Justin would never allow it. Evie would love it.
I am sick. One of the comments I got on my post was that I should understand that I have a disease. It hard to. No one takes these things seriously. But the pull is there. As much as an alcoholic wants his next drink or a smoker wants their next puff. I want to eat. I will eat things that dont' taste good. I will eat things that violate my principals (except meat. no clue why that one sticks). I will get drive thru and hide it. I will save the last of something awesome from my children and sneak it when they are not watching. I scream at the kids for wanting to eat because I'm so mad at myself for my most recent binge that I can't stand the idea of cooking or watching them eat. But I make lunch or dinner and eat with them. I eat and eat until I want to vomit, and then I walk past something and want to put it in my mouth.
The heartburn is terrible. The gas is icky. I shake if I'm not eating during a binge. I try gum, but the then the kids realize we have some and they chew it all. Seriously, an 8pack of orbit gum boxes. That's like over 100 sticks of gum. Gone in a week. Coffee helps sometimes, but then I get jittery and bitchy and the heartburn is still there. Alcohol helps too, but i can't drink all day with the kids home.
I am a food addict and I need help.
