Feel like writing today, don't know why. Perhaps I have a lot to say, perhaps it's all bullshit, but here I am. The first thing I noticed when I signed in was my last post about Tuesdays, and it's funny I did, because I was only thinking about it yesterday; I made another amazing decision on a Tuesday, this one more recent. I decided to go sky diving for charity. I really don't know what made me say yes, but my god, I am so glad I did.
Other than raising over 1,100 euro for Irish Autism Action, I put myself in a position, sensually, that people with autism go through every day of their lives. Picture it: getting in to a tiny aeroplane and flying up to 12,000 feet, being strapped very tightly to someone you've only just met... they open the door of the plane... the wind hits your face as you clamber over, cumbersome with all the equipment and gear you've got on you. you look down and all you see is empty space, and then they count to three... Next thing you know, you're falling; a great swoop in your stomach as you plummet at 130 miles an hour through empty air, and you start to scream as you think "I'm going to die today". And then, and then... you get wet all of a sudden. Why? Because you've just gone through a rain cloud. Next, you see the ground. And you're still falling, falling, falling, but not for long, because the next thing you feel is a jerk, and all of a sudden it's absolute, sheer elation. You can see for miles and miles, and nothing can touch you from up here. You're flying, there's no pain, no hardship, it's just you, floating, above everything. Away from all the usual stuff. It's an amazing feeling, and I have never felt so free in all my life. I wonder if I ever will again? That's not the point though. The point is, it's the first time, probably ever, that I have lived in the moment. I guess I used to do it, but to be honest I really don't remember it. I didn't think anything bad, or, come to think of it, anything good. For someone whose trade name is Just B, this doesn't inspire a lot of confidence. But now, finally, I can say that I truly have Just Been.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, sensory situations. Right. Ok, now picture this: You can literally hear everything, ten times louder than everyone else, and you take in every tiny sound and you have to process them as they appear in your head. A car horn and a baby cry at the same time, and you just can't handle it. It's sensory overload, but that's not all. Your're on a bridge, and you're crossing it as traffic comes across it towards you. An everyday occurrence for residents of Killaloe. A bike, ok; a car, oh god; and then, before you can count to three, suddenly it's a huge truck, hurtling towards you at 130 miles an hour and you think "I'm going to die today".... you getting a picture? We don't cross roads like this, but it CAN be like that for people who have autism. The difference they don't get the sense of elation and invincibility quickly afterwards. They just get to the other side of the road.
My best friend has autism. I wish I knew how she felt. I don't and I never will, but I try to imagine, to put myself in her shoes, or the shoes of anyone on the spectrum... it baffles me. Ailis is an amazing girl, and I praise the day she came in to my life. She makes me think about things in a different way, and helps me with difficult thought processes. As her mother says, she has never intentionally hurt another human being, and that's more than can be said for, well, most people actually. She has something, which a lot of people don't have: empathy. It's something really, that only people who have been through some shit have. I have it, which is why I want to be a psychiatric nurse. I know I can help a lot of people. Because I know. I know what it's like. Ailis does this too. She goes through it every day. Imagine what she went through only a couple of weeks ago, she was on a bus and before her Nana could get on, the bus drove off. Imagine the panic, the fear, gripping her every pore... Jesus. So when someone describes an intense fear, she can relate. She knows what it's like, and she empathizes. This makes her special, and amazing. She has not had an easy life, but look at her it's just awe inspiring. Wow.
I've finally understood the true meaning of the words "Adrenaline Junkie". That feeling... oh my God. There's no describing it. I felt like I could run a marathon afterwards, there was electricity coursing through every vein in my body and I could feel everything. I did 200 lengths in the pool the next morning, without stopping. Just felt so... I dunno. Everything was on another level. It was unbelievable.
However, a junkie is an addict. And every addiction comes with baggage. Hence the reason for this post - The Aftermath - because what I am experiencing now is basically a come down. It's like I'm still looking for a thrill, the way I have been behaving this week. I went eleven months with no bulimia and now I'm a trainwreck and I haven't eaten for three days. The other addiction. Fuck. Fuckety fucking fuck fuck. Please don't hate me now that you've read this. I had to admit it, had to say it. Otherwise it's denial and we know where that leads. Please don't judge, just understand. I didn't fall down on purpose. I am not going to call it a relapse. That's perhaps too strong. Or maybe I just don't want to admit that things are that bad again. But "slip" makes it sound like it was only once. And it's a lot more than that. Ok, there's no word. Bad patch? Yeah, bad. Ok, so, we've established that, now how do I fix it? I've already let it spiral so I need to reel this in before it gets any worse. How though?
Come on Pippa, you've done this before. How many times have you done this now? So many. I need to break out of the eat - exercise - binge - purge - exercise cycle. I exercise because I feel guilty for eating. But I don't do a little exercise. I do a lot. Like 7 hours a day. And because of that, I have to eat a lot. When I eat a lot, I eat a hell of a lot and I end up bingeing, which of course leads to purging. Then I feel guilty, which means I need punishment, which means exercise. And so it goes. Sometimes I have to do a crash course, and completely stop exercising until such a time as I can do it sensibly. But then I can't eat. Hence why I haven't eaten in three days. I can't. I haven't earned it.
Yes, this is seriously my thought process on a daily basis. I am so disgusted by my body, every single day, that I do this every single day. Only yesterday someone said to me, God I'd love to be you for a week. HA. You wouldn't last an hour love, good luck. I do this every day because on some level, somewhere, I feel like I deserve it. I wonder if I will ever allow myself to Just B? Just be happy, just be free, just eat, just love, just be loved and just embrace my body. I doubt it.
I really thought I had done it this time. I really thought I had really, truly, finally beaten it. I guess I was wrong. Or am I? Is this just me giving it one last go to make sure this is really not what I want my life to be like? I got to spend 11 months in a state of happiness. The best eleven months of my life. By far. So what the hell am I doing? WHY am I looking back, going back in to this? It's not worth it, is it? Just cos I want to lose weight. Which I do, I want to so so badly. I need to have a serious think about the way I am going about achieving this. My thinking is so black and white, and 'all or nothing' is my approach to everything. I doubt that I will be able to just lose a few pounds. That's all I want, but I know if that happens I will end up right back. But the thought of having a body this big for the rest of my life sparks intense fear right to the very core, and suddenly, as I write this, I am cooking food which I know full well I will not keep down. How am I back to this, in three days?? It's like a nightmare.
The worst part is how quickly the same thought processes came back, and how quickly the exact same behaviours and habits slipped right back in to place as if the last year never happened. Little things, like needing an ever more constant supply of diet fizzy drinks to stop myself from feeling hunger, and needing to eat chewing gum to trick my body in to thinking it's eating. And how, immediately, the bulimia and binge behaviours came back as soon as I started reducing my food intake. When you eat a normal amount, the risk of bingeing basically disappears, and finally, the constant thoughts of food begins to lessen. You don't think about food when you're not hungry. But in starvation mode, it's constant. Like a plague.
I think the answer lies with breaking that cycle. And of course those feelings of deserving. But who knows if that will ever right itself? I had already come to the realisation that having an eating disorder will be a lifelong battle, and that I will probably never lose my fears, that I will always have a problem with balancing food and weight and exercise. I thought I had got off lightly, that after all the years of struggling the only problem was being obsessed with exercise. Turns out that is now the biggest problem, because it sparks all the other behaviours. Maybe it was only a matter of time. Maybe joining the gym was a huge mistake. After all, the last time I joined the gym I relapsed as well. I can't believe I just wrote that. I wasn't even thinking it, and I've only just realised it. Maybe it's time to stop thinking now. Shit's getting real.
Dinner time.
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