The days seem to be melting from one into another. The summer heat swelling my thoughts making most things indistinguishable, quickly morphing from one thought into another. Four weeks of “should I go? Can I leave my dog? Do I even need this?” And so on, and on, and on. Memories played on an audio track stuck on repeat- playing the same old destructive and self deprecating thoughts like something recorded on old vinyl. Skipping and scratching at times…a true testament to the age that these thoughts have carried on.
I’m so adamant at the thought of going back to residential for an “eating disorder” especially when I struggle to see what everyone else does. Yet I continue to reach out, call insurance, confide in my treatment team, and manage to continue breathing. But it’s been disintegrating- my will power. The determination that was like the little engine that could…it’s quickly coming to a halt.
A process I imagined would take a week has now entered a month. Suffice to say, I have proper tan marks on my feet from daily usage of flip-flops on all my walks with my Howard and trips to the dog park. Sun kissed shoulders touched with a dusting of highlighted freckles. It’s been too hot not to wear tank tops…despite the amount of skin I put out there to bare.
Today, today I started to feel like my brain was swish swashing a head full of vinegar and somehow baking soda has entered this concoction- causing that child like experiment you once tested in your backyard, overflowing thoughts of despair, determination, anguish, anger, defeat, hopelessness, and everything visually appearing to my blue blood shot eyeballs.
Truth is, I’m fearful that no matter what I do, I’m not going to get better…or just “better enough”, be happy and merry like so many expect to see me after time spent in treatment. I’m not by any means trying to sabotage myself, I just don’t want to do something and put the efforts in with my tired heart and restless soul to only find out that this is as good as it gets.
I was laying on my bed earlier. Wishing someone that was unattainable was available, hoping that a friend would call or want to just “be” with me. I took my dog outside, in the July heat- stiff air at the end of a late summer day. You can feel the warmth as you breathe it into your chest. It’s heavy. My dog pees and then he’s over it- he’s completely satisfied in sitting in the shade under the bench that I occupy. Listening to music that brings back a flood of memories from what feels like three lifetimes.
I’ve contemplated taking my beloved dog, Howard, to someone else’s house. Where he’s safe. So that I can continue to contemplate the darkness I’m all too familiar with without those big brown eyes looking up at me, saying, “you can’t leave me.” Little does he know, he would go on to live a comfortable life, with an abundant amount of attention and affection…he would not go without. Maybe not as many trips to the dog park, or leisurely walks that he decides whether we go on or not…
This jumble is just another run on sentence from my jumbled brain (one in which I’m adamantly over.) So many sorries. Too much love to ignore. But, too many towers of twirling despair on desolate grounds. I don’t know who I am anymore. Even more, I’m not sure which step I’ll take next, and what direction it’ll be in. But as always, Godspeed.