Why do I do what I do when I know I’m going to regret it??

That seems like a tongue twister to me- Suzie sell seashells by the sea shore…. that was hard to even type.

I slept in till 8am this morning.  Big one had a sleep over last night and is taking the train to the city to visit a museum with a friend of his.  His 8am call that they were about to board the train pulled me from my slumber.   Little one was still sleeping, and hubby is still sleeping now.

I got up, checked on little one and tried to climb back into bed, but once my feet hit the floor it’s usually all over for me. So I wrote out this morning’s Bible verse, something new I am trying to combat fear and anxiety, thought about the fact that I will have to find 2 positive things in today, then checked the mirror.  Greasy stringy hair and a tired looking beachball looked back at me.  I quickly calculated my last shower…. Sunday…. the day I took three.  I considered for a moment and decided I wasn’t going anywhere today and I did take 3 showers on Sunday and called it good enough.  Put on the same clothes I wore yesterday (but not the ones I left the house in because those are contaminated) ran a brush thru my stringy hair and headed downstairs.

By now little one was up and I got her some breakfast- there was some arguments about having lucky charms since she refuses to eat anything but the marshmallows and that marshmallows don’t make breakfast…. but in the end the fight wasn’t worth it, she got her breakfast of marshmallows Lucky Charms and her drink, and her ritalin.  And then I panicked.  Like I do EVERY SINGLE MORNING.  What if i I accidentally gave her one of big ones’ pills (even tho his are kept in a separate locations, and I check to make sure her name is on the bottle) or what if I gave her one of my valium?  I picked up the bottle again, my heart rate slowed and I calmed down realizing that yes it does have her name, and he name of her medication on it.

Next came the dilemma what do I eat? I wasn’t hungry, it was just time to eat according to my routine.  But if I eat as soon as I start it’s hard to stop until I have eaten so much I feel sick.  I started the coffee pot (BTW to anyone worried this anxiety filled crazy lady drinks decaf) and poured myself a rather large bowl of cocoa pebbles, cut up a banana in it, and added a lot of milk, filling the large bowl to the top.  I carefully walked to the table and ate my cereal as I read what fellow bloggers had to say. I finished that bowl, feeling full, but knowing full well what was about to happen.  And like I was an automaton I got up from my chair, got the cocoa pebbles down and poured another bowl, this time sans banana and somewhat smaller than the last bowl and proceeded to eat this entire bowl.

The coffee was ready now so I make my “cup” of coffee which I always drink out of one of those huge soup mugs.  So now as I sit here and type this my stomach is full. Over filled, I can feel it stretching as I sit here and sloshing with milk and coffee and cocoa pebbles.  I sit here, and I wonder why do I do this morning after morning? Causing myself physical and emotional pain…. knowing I am having extra calories that are unneeded and making myself sick.  Wondering if it’s really any different than the physical marks I make on my body that we all call self harm? Wondering why my husband finds this type of self abuse more acceptable?  Wondering if I should just go throw it all up so that I will feel better. But worse since throwing up is a phobia of mine. Knowing full well I will do the same thing again, maybe later today with lunch, or dinner, or my evening snack.  Or maybe tomorrow with more cocoa pebbles. What’s wrong with  me? Why do I do this?

I’m feeling tired, it’s only 9:48am but I think it’s time to lay on the couch, and maybe some of this food will settle and I won’t feel like the girl that turned into a blueberry on Charlie and the Chocolate factory in a little while.

So for now, I leave you with this question- is me cutting my arms with my fingernails and keys, the same as filling my stomach so full I am in physical, emotional and psychological pain or is it different?   Isn’t the intent the same? So why is one more “acceptable?

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Author: thethingswehideinside

Im an almost 40 year old mom struggling through this life with two children, a husband, a houseful of animals. We all have mental or physical challenges that make daily life even harder, this is our journey.

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