I am in a dark and cramped place. An oubliette, perhaps? Unlikely, but I have always wanted to use that word in a sentence. I am feeling very trapped in my body right now. We, by which I mean me, are really in need of some time apart. I am desperate for a vacation from myself.
I am too malnourished to escape my reality, and I am desperate to do so. I cannot read more than a short form article. Basically, social media. But that is such a grim place to be. Algorithms bury the 90% of my feed that is fiber and instead all I see is BBC, The Guardian and The Washington Post. Oh, and ads. Lots and lots of ads.
I have tried games, but even the simple ones overwhelm me with ads. Ads for sales on things that will allow me to keep playing my game. So I give up.
I watch music videos. My perennial happy place. But I start to get tired and reality starts seeping in around the edges.
I smoosh my face into Dancer, who can see my tears and comes to comfort me. And I hide from the world in his warm fur, feeling the vibration of his purrs. And all is right with the world again. For a few minutes. Then he moves to my lap. Or David’s. And my reality comes crashing back like a tsunami of physical and emotional pain.
Help isn’t coming. Five weeks of starvation and I am on my own. My body has failed the test by hoarding its resources. That may have been how my ancestors survived bouts of famine, but it is a fail-able technique now. So no help for me.
I upped my feed to 27ml/hour, and have toughed it out for 36 hours. And will tough it out as long as I can. But it is taking an awful lot of pain medication to do so. I was at 54ml/hour just a few months ago without even a Tylenol. Something has changed, but no one seems to care what or why. Because I am only starving — what could possibly be wrong with that?
See why I need a break?
I wish I could disappear in a drunken stupor. But even if alcohol weren’t seriously contraindicated with my medication, it is hard to get black-out drunk in 60ml increments every hour or so. So that’s out.
I went downstairs to get the mail. But my body insisted on coming me with. We returned unreasonably tired and hungry.
We ate a few bites and it hurt, so we stopped. Then felt regret because, despite not being able to eat, my eating disorder is fully activated right now. It has been quiet for a while, but Tuesday’s appointment released the beast from its cage. So that is adding to the emotional exhaustion. Fun times.
All the cliches say there is no way through, but moving forward. But moving requires energy I don’t have. And help isn’t coming.