I’m going to get this off my chest. I’m going to say what I’m feeling, even though my brain knows it’s not true. Those of you who have become friends will tell me I’m wrong. In the light of the day tomorrow, I might agree, but I’m weighed down right now.
I couldn’t figure out where the grief went. I assumed cumming again fixed me. Hell, I came again last night, thinking it would help me sleep (wrong). I thought that I just needed release and that’s what made it all “better.” I haven’t cried for a couple of days – I thought I tamed the emotions. The ache is with me always, but I thought I was handling my emotions. I thought I found calm, even though peace is a long way off.
Could I be any more wrong?
I found myself mindlessly eating today, even though I wasn’t hungry, even though my stomach hurt, even though I didn’t want to. I’m an emotional eater – always have been. When he held me accountable (at my request), I had to resist the urge, but it was always there, simmering below the surface.
There’s nothing to hold me back now. I don’t have it in me to sink into the abyss I was in – it’s just too painful. I can’t function under the weight of my own sad feelings. So what do I do? I fucking eat. I don’t work out and I eat. I feel disgusting and bloated. I look at food and turn away, but a stray thought comes to mind, and I reach for whatever can fill me up.
I’m empty. I’m alone and empty, and I’m using food to fill me up again. And it’s stupid, and I hate it, but there’s something missing in me that gives me the willpower and determination to stop. I’m angry with myself, I’m angry at the situation, but I feel powerless to stop it.
I came into a little bit of extra money today – totally unexpected. Most of it will go into savings – between Christmas and the potential move, I’m gonna need it. I realized I haven’t purchased anything for myself in a while – just for me.
My next thought was, “Why bother?” That’s how gross I feel right, that’s how disgusted I am with myself.
I can’t even get upset enough to stop the inertia I can feel creeping in. I feel ugly. I feel fat. I feel worthless – I can’t even keep to a simple and doable goal. I feel stupid for letting it happen. I know, I know, I’m none of those things. I get it. You’re right. This is just grief and disappointment talking. But I feel it – and it weighs me down further.
I can’t even cry about it. I’m drained of everything except disgust for myself. In case we haven’t met, meet the ugly side of me.