Tag Archives: ptsd

Apathy, Indifference, Whatever…

I have not really had much to say about ED in the last 2 months. Here is why:

I had a miscarriage.

I haven’t been able to talk about it.

When it happened, I lost my appetite and didn’t eat for a week. I cried and sobbed and drank myself to sleep every night for a month. I binged a few times. I ate “normally” and I just existed for the last little while. I had experienced weight gain after the miscarriage, but not during the pregnancy – I wasn’t far enough along. I hated myself for what happened and of course, I blamed myself for what happened.

My boyfriend was supportive and loving and caring. He put up with the snot and sobbing and staring into outer space like a zombie. He comforted me every night while I fell apart. He held me when I woke up screaming from nightmares about dead babies. He flew my mother here to help me cope (yes, her being here had nothing to with my birthday so I feel even shittier about being ungrateful). He ran me bubble baths and tried to shield me from adverts for diapers or someone giving birth in a movie.

For two months I have been depressed. It is a kind of depressed that I have never known before.

In the beginning it was hard enough to function while dealing with the physical repercussions of the miscarriage. I lost so much blood and was in so much pain. I was physically weak and exhausted. It was all-consuming. I couldn’t think about anything else except the baby we might have had. Miscarriage is common. I read all about it. I read everything I could. It still didn’t prepare me for what I went through or how devastated I am.

Now, a couple of months later, the physical symptoms are gone and I am left with a hollow in my heart. I would have been 16 weeks along today.

ED has barely featured since and I am not sure why. I still think about it. I stare at my much heavier reflection at ballet and am repulsed. I have to squeeze into my size 6 pants and it upsets me, but I don’t do anything. I eat in terms I can only describe as “normal”, keeping in mind that I don’t know what normal is. I am not actively starving, bingeing or purging. I am drinking a lot. I seem to have become apathetic and indifferent to food. I am unconcerned with anything except trying to get through my day with my sanity intact. Work has been overly stressful and dramatic. My boyfriend and I have had some more relationship turmoil (as usual revolving around the mother of his youngest child). We continue to not move forward. At the end of the day, I cannot cope with any of it. I cannot deal with anything.

I have been trying to get back into a gym routine over the last few weeks. I have little incentive or motivation to exercise other than I know endorphins are good for depression. I just don’t really seem to care and I cannot make myself care. I have thought about going to see a counsellor. On that note, I dropped out of my ED treatment that I was in. There didn’t seem much point in going.

So I have nothing to update on the ED front. I ate cucumbers and hummus at work today. Last week when my anxiety over our relationship was much higher, I ate nothing. Tonight I ate 2 bowls of pasta and didn’t purge. On the weekend when we went on a happy family vacation, I ate 3 meals a day. There seems to be no rhyme or reason.

When my coworker announced her pregnancy this week and her due date 10 days after mine would have been, I hid in my office. I feel a numbness. Other than being depressed, I haven’t felt much else except the inability to cope. My anxiety has been escalating lately over work and relationship stuff and that usually sends my ED into a frenzy, but I have barely reacted if the truth be told. All I want to do is sleep. I don’t mean kill myself because I have no suicidal tendencies at all. I just want to sleep for a very long time.

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On Being Raped By Your Husband

Trigger Warning: RAPE

I never spoke about it. I never told anyone.

I married at 22. It was a big mistake, but I was too young and dumb to figure that out until it was too late. Over night the person I thought I knew morphed into a monster. The facade he had while we were dating slipped away and I was left on a rollercoaster with a man who was unstable, violent and dangerous.

There are a lot of bad things that happened in the almost 2 years that I stayed in the marriage. In those years my eating disorder spiralled out of control. I was confused and couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong. It took me too long to realize that I needed to get out and towards the end, the abuse started.

I have spoken to girlfriends who have shared their stories of abuse. Most of them are ashamed in some way for something that was not their fault. I was no different. I never called the police. I never reported it. I couldn’t bring myself to confide in family or friends. I didn’t know how to explain that the person I was married to had raped me. It seemed that no one would believe me. After all, I was married to him and willingly living with him while we tried to fix what was wrong.

In the end it was unfixable. In the end being beaten and raped was worse than the cheating and I left. The damage was already done.

A few nights ago I had a massive breakdown and couldn’t tell my boyfriend what was wrong. He asked if I knew what was wrong and I nodded. He asked me if I could tell him what was wrong and I shook my head. I sobbed in the middle of the night and asked God why I wasn’t worth more. Why when I was so young and innocent, He didn’t save me from something so unspeakably terrible. Why I am still haunted, broken. Why I am always poised to run from the man who loves me, because I have loved the wrong man before and paid for it. Why it is so hard to trust that it won’t happen again.

In the dark I am tortured by the memories of being held down, violently restrained, suffocating, unable to escape as he raped me. I try to blur the details, but they are so vivid: the sound of my own muffled screaming, the pain. I can’t erase the disgust of being used, abused and forced to do something against my will; of being violated and tarnished and damaged.

It is 8 years since it happened and I am still scarred, still scared. There are times when it comes rushing back, out of nowhere to drown me.

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