I slowly just accept the fact that it’s taking over me.
My mental stability teetering between highs and lows.
I let it consume me.
I welcome it to take control.
It makes itself at home.
My hunger. Gone.
Eating schedule completely spun around.
My body unable to function with the day.
I’m not hungry.
I force down breakfast because I know it’s the only actual meal that I can guarantee for myself.
Breakfast is the easiest meal because I have been having the same food for the past year.
I feel full from just half of it, but I force down the other half.
I know I can finish it and I know I need to. As much as I want to collapse, I don’t want to be weak.
The thought of food hardly passes my mind.
Lunch time passes. Nothing. Just water.
I stare at my lunch and I wonder, “when did I lose my appetite”
I don’t really know how I fell back into the place I am now.
It was an early breakfast today. 7AM. Work by 8.
Lunch at 12:30PM. No desire even as I can feel a headache creeping on from the lack of fuel.
3:30PM, I get home with a bit of groceries.
I buy food, sometimes knowing that I won’t eat it. I just want to buy it and have it in my fridge for that just maybe moment where I am able to free my mind of restrictions. Because eating those foods from time to time is someone who I want to be.
I have to get something down.
I heat up a vegan Jamaican patty. Spicy. Hoping it induces some hunger.
I head up straight to bed after.
Tired from the restless night before.
Not really sure how much sleep I got. Maybe 2hrs? Maybe 3.
I pass out for a good 4 hours.
Surprise, I’m feeling hungry. Finally, thank you.
But guess what. My anxieties around food and insecurities kick in.
My mind starts running around.
“I can’t eat this late. It’ll only add as fat.”
“But I have to eat otherwise it’s going to just slow down my metabolism, and that’s the last thing I want”
“Either way, going to gain some weight. Going to mess up my system. You know what, tomorrow. Tomorrow you will eat well.”
So I just grab a handful of mixed nuts and call it a dinner.
But that’s not enough. I also have to work out because working out helps to build muscle that increases your metabolism.
So I do a quick 15 minutes workout. Better than nothing.
But the lack of energy and hunger and headache just adds to my depressive symptoms as it continues to keep me down.
I can see myself fading.
I see it in my skin.
It’s breaking out, again.
Why am I like this.
Why is it so hard to be who I see myself to be.
But I will give myself credit, I’m not always this sad.
When I am able to let myself be, I am happy.
But there is always that little voice that always peaks through.
And then I go on a deficit to counter for my “reckless” behaviour.
I cut back.
So yes, sometimes I allow myself the extra food, but always at a cost.
I pretend to be this girl who eat.
I pretend to be this girl who is healthy.
I am not healthy.
I’m lying to myself and everyone else.
I’m not healthy in the way I think.
I have suicidal thoughts. I think about all the ways I can end up in a hospital.
Am I just seeking for attention?
Maybe this has something to do with the dream or nightmare I had few months ago. I still remember.
I was screaming, with everything I had. I knew that people could hear me, but no one coming to help.
I screamed multiple times, with everything I had. For just some attention. Nothing.
And then I screamed so loud that I woke myself from sleep.
My mom also heard. She asked me what happened. I said nothing.
I think about sleeping for days. Starving. Rotting.
I think of jumping in front of the subway line.
Quick and maybe painless.
Quick for sure.
But I don’t want to cause a commission and people would probably hate me for causing a delay.
But when people see me, I’m happy and healthy. I’m okay.
People tell me their issues and problems, and I help them talk through it.
I keep quiet about mine.
I’m not healthy in the way I eat.
Restricted. No wiggle room, or at least not without a cost.
I don’t count calories anymore though. But mainly because I eat the same breakfast, so I know the rough estimation.
When I eat out, there’s calories.
When I eat, I just allow myself to assume that there aren’t that many calories in home-cooked meals. Mainly because I only eat vegetables and a bit of rice.
Vegetables and tofu. I allow myself this.
Any other food that comes packaged, I count. I see the calorie count and cook accordingly.
I’m not even sure that if I even get in 1,500 calories some days, never mind 2,000.
But people think I’m healthy.
Because I eat when I go out to eat with friends.
But little do they know that I had to talk myself up to this.
And that it’s going to affect what I eat for the next couple days to counter for this. But going vegan has helped to significantly cut down the choices that I had to make and cuts out a lot of junk food.
It’s not that I don’t eat it, it’s now that I can’t. For animal welfare. And it’s true.
I think it’s 50/50 driven by animal welfare and my eating dysfunctions.
But I convince myself that it’s all for the animals and the environmental affects.
I’m not healthy and I wish someone knew.
I’m not healthy and I wish I wasn’t so good at covering it.