November 30, 2005
A Million Little Pieces
I'm reading this amazing book right now called "A Million Little Piece". There's this quote I ran across: "...and for a brief second I feel strong. Not strong enough to face myself, but strong enough to keep going."
God, i know that one all too well.....strong enough to just keep going, in whatever way i can, though never strong enough to look myself in the eye.
My days are spent in a sort of cloud, moment, minutes passing into one another. Passing through me. Withdrawl sucks. It's been exactly one week since i've taken my last dose of Effexor-- even though i've got seven little peach-colored capsules sitting in the bathroom. But I won't give in. Won't allow myself the 'luxury' of normalcy. Why? i can't say for sure. Perhaps it's punishment of some kind. Some way of proving to myself i deserve it for allowing myself to lose control of the one thing i've so diligently controlled all these years. i thought i had the upper hand in this morbidly sick and twisted game. But i was wrong.
My heart dances out its erratic beat like a kid taking her first steps. Fast. Slow. Unsteady. Many, many times a day now i find myself frozen in place, hand to neck feeling for a pulse as though i can silently will it back to a normal rhythm. i am unsuccessful and resort to taking deep, long breaths in attempt to make go away.
My head, more specifically my brain, feel as though it is disconnected from my body. Just floating around in its cranial cage. Synapses broken, disconnected. Neurons dying before they reach their destination. i feel dizzy most of the day, most of the night.
Starvation's negative effects at their finest and i feel powerless to make it stop. i know what i need to do. But knowing and actually doing might as well be in different galaxies.
Everytime i stand i feel the blood pressure drop to nearly non-existant levels. Feel the presure in my head rise up like mini explosions in my brain. i grab hold of whatever is near until the feeling passes and my eyes can focus again. Until the room stops spinning and the pressure in my head goes away.
i don't sleep much anymore. Rather, i lie in bed, fully conscious but paralyzed. Unable to move, to open my eyes, to do anything but lie there as the nightmares take over. And the anxiety attacks enter in. i feel my breathing increase, feel my heartbeat quicken. Terror grabs hold of me and yet, i don't know what i'm so afraid of. i don't know what i'm running from. All i know is that I'm scared and powerless to escape. And unable to 'wake-up' from my not-asleep-but-not-awake state of being.
This goes on all fucking night long. When i lay down to sleep, it begins again. Even taking a nap in the middle of the day results in the same internal madness. In short, i'm afraid to sleep these days. Afraid the nightmares will arrive but no one else will come to save me from it.
Even the melatonin i took this evening, hoping to induce sleep chemically, did nothing. I'm wide awake. Pete is asleep, half the world is asleep. Even the dogs are lost in their own little dreamlands. But i'm not.
The vicodin and bottle of Vodka in the fridge are becoming rather tempting.
Thanksgiving wasn't bad. Less stressful than with my own family. I did a 48-hour fast in preparation because I knew I'd have to eat SOMEthing, and I knew I wouldn't be able to purge. It crossed my mind, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it at Pete's mom's house. I had veggies and diet soda. And I've spent the last week feeling guilty for it. Avoiding food, purging what little I DO consume. A few pretzles here, some yogurt there. Pete and I went to the grocery store tonight. Walked through the isles, overwhelmed simply by the site of everything. If one were to go to a store and see a basket of groceries sitting in some random isle, I was probably just there. It's definitely easier when Pete goes with me... but definitely not easy in itself.
Picked up the smallest squash I could find, half knowing it would most likely be thrown out in a few weeks, from slowly rotting in the back of the fridge. Felt so guilty about that one little vegetable, that I almost put it back before we'd reached the check-out counter. Pete kept asking if there was anything i wanted. I kept saying No. Nothing. I LIKE bare cupboards. Empty shelves. Quite simply, I don't like seeing food in my kitchen. If I had it my way, I'd turn the kitchen into my art studio. Just think of all the shelving I'd have! All the counter space. Nothing allowed in there but coffee.
I feel so guilty for spending money on food when I know it's either going to go bad before I eat it, or end up in the city sewer-line shortly thereafter. I would rather spend the money on art supplies or running gear. Something that's actually of importance. Something i'd actually USE. It just seems like such a waste.
Anyhow, Pete and i paid, got home and Pete put away the groceries while i attempted to do some homework. That too, is becoming a pointless endeavor as i simply can not concentrate long enough to get through it. Even the smallest of assignments is overwhelming lately. Thank god there's only a few weeks left of this semester. Amazing how much can change in a few years. i used to have no problem with school work and studying and getting straight A's. Now it's a struggle to even get a B. And that's if I'm lucky.
Sometimes i feel like just giving up on all of this. just say fuck it, thrown down my cards and walk away. From myself, from the world, from life.
Game over.
Posted by Wendy on November 30, 2005 2:49 AM
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