I slipped, and then, I fell. Literally, and figuratively.
I’ve been struggling lately. All my trauma stuff has been front and center in therapy, and in my mind. So Bea has had us back off, and we haven’t been talking about it. It’s still there, though. The nightmare, that is really a memory, has become flashbacks during the day. I’m a mess of feeling emotions and struggling to be present and then locking myself away in my head and going through the motions. I spend whole days not even sure what I have really said or done, but pretty sure I played my “role” well. In that same vein, I am overly aware of what I have eaten, or not eaten, and when the last time I hurt myself or purged was.
Friday, I realized that in a week, it’s my birthday. Normally, this would bring about plan making, and excitement, and hints to hubby, and all manner of things involving celebrating my birthday for the next week. This year, though, all I can think is that my Grandpa is not here. You see, my birthday falls on the 24th of October. Grandpa’s falls on the 23rd. I’ve always celebrated my birthday with him. Last year, he was sick, and it was the last birthday we had together.
I still have not really said good-bye. I don’t know how. I cried after our birthday, when hubby drove us back home, knowing deep in my heart that when my grandparents left for their Florida home, Grandpa wouldn’t be coming back. I cried when my mom called and said he had passed, then I shut it down and stayed up all night, cleaning. I spoke at his service. But I have not said good bye.
On Friday, I realize it’s birthday week. I don’t want to think about this, and so I binge, without even realizing it. And then, inevitably come the “What the hell have you done? You’ve ruined everything, you have no control,” thoughts, and I have to lock myself in the bathroom and purge. No one is home, so it’s okay. After, because I’ve throughly, carefully thrown up everything, I feel terrible and dizzy.
Kat wants to go to the pool when she gets home, and I think this is a good idea. Hubby has a weird work schedule this week, and needs to sleep to go back into work tonight. So off to the pool we go, where I end up slipping and falling.
I’ve now spent the weekend sore and with a monster headache from the slip and fall at the pool, and starving myself back into control because I need to be in control this week. Did I mention hubby has a very important award he has won, for the entire state, and that the dinner and ceremony is on the 23rd? I really, really need to be in control. He’s so excited and proud he hasn’t even realized what that day means to me. I feel lost, and trapped. I want out, I want to run, to hide, to not be here right now.