Tag Archives: relationships

Obscenity


After a day of restricting and over exercising, I came home and cut up vegetables for dinner: half a cauliflower, a cucumber and some cherry tomatoes.

An hour later I mentioned to my boyfriend that I was still hungry.

“But you ate an obscene amount of vegetables for dinner,”He told me.

Obscene. Not “a lot” of vegetables or a “huge amount”. Obscene – like it was offensive or appalling, because it isn’t already hard enough to eat when you have an eating disorder.

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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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Guilt, Anxiety, Stress.

I am beside myself with anxiety.

My mum has been here for nearly 2 weeks. As much as I love having her here, it has added a lot of stress. Work has been extremely busy and ridiculously unpleasant. If I am at work, I am worried about my mum being left alone all day doing nothing. If I take time off work to spend with my mum, I am wracked with guilt about not being at work. I can’t seem to balance everything. I seem to be failing miserably and driving myself crazy with anxiety instead of enjoying my time with her.

I don’t know what to do. I have a performance review at work tomorrow which I am dreading even though my boss has never indicated to me that he is not happy with my work. I always anticipate the worst. I have considered resigning this week from the stress even though I don’t want to leave my job. Last night I cried myself to sleep because I was so overwhelmed by everything. I have been quite depressed for reasons I will explain another time.

I am fat and discontent. I keep eating and drinking trying to escape from the anxiety that will not ebb.

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Disappointment continued 

So my “birthday surprise” from my boyfriend arrived today. It was my mum just as I predicted it would be. 

I’m so mad at him and of course he doesn’t see why and I look like an ungrateful bitch (also as I predicted). 

Who wouldn’t be happy to have their mum as a surprise? I love my mum. I always want her to come visit. My issue is the wrong timing (I was home a month ago with her and can’t take any time off work while she is here); the financial implications – neither of us have money; and the fact that my boyfriend is not giving me what I do want and getting us further from our goals not closer. 

I tried to explain to him that something this big needed to be discussed with me. He tried to justify why he did it. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter. He spent a lot of time and money on something that I didn’t want and now I feel like shit for not liking it. 

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Birthdays and Disappointments

 
“You never asked me what I actually want,” I tell my boyfriend who is raving non-stop about the surprise birthday gift he has spent a lot of time and money on for me. “Well when you live with someone you kind of get to know what they want,” is his retort. “I’m good at gifts. It’s the one thing I’m really good at.”
I sigh and look at him, “but there are only three things I really want.”

“Yeah I know,” he lists them off: “a diamond, a house and puppies…it’s not any of those.”

“Then I don’t want it,” I say without meaning to be surly but probably sounding it anyway. I don’t want him spending ridiculous amounts of money on something I’m not going to appreciate and which isn’t going to get us closer to our goals (if it doesn’t actually make us break up first). 
“Maybe it’s something you didn’t know you wanted,” is his confident come back. “I guarantee you you will love it and there will be tears.”
I walk away from the conversation. I know I won’t love it the way he wants me too. I know almost eerily that we are going to end up fighting over it. I feel like it is unfair of him to build up this much expectation and put it all on me over something that I’m not interested in. I tell him I am worried that he is so excited over it and has talked it up for so long that I am scared when I don’t like it at all or as much as he is expecting, that it will upset him. He seems unconcerned. 

I think, without snooping which I refuse to do for the tiniest chance I actually will love it, that he is going to fly my family in as a surprise. As much as I love them, there are so many reasons I don’t want them here right now, but I am not going to get into that in this post. 
I find myself in the same position at 33 as I was at 30…living with a boyfriend who has promised an engagement and a marriage but who has failed to deliver within the agreed upon time frame. I wonder how stupid I must be to be repeating this exact scenario only 3 short years later, but this post is not to discuss my (blatantly obvious) stupidity. 
I want to discuss disappointment instead. I want to discuss what it is like to only want an engagement ring and nothing else; to want a token of commitment after everything I have done and sacrificed and endured. I have been waiting 9 months now based on how my boyfriend talks. Based on all the comments about how he can’t wait for me to be his wife or for us to spend the rest of our lives together or for me to become Mrs. (Insert-his-last-name-here). 
So I am at the point where an engagement is no longer going to be romantic or a surprise or this wonderful sweep-me-off-my-feet-moment or the fairytale proposal I have longed for. It is now something that is a constant disappointment as it fails to materialize. It is going to start becoming a source of contention between us and break us down. He is going to spend a ridiculous amount of money on something I just don’t want right now and when I am disappointed it will be all my fault. I will be the ungrateful bitch who didn’t want this “gift”. It will be all on me even though I have clearly communicated what I do want over and over. 
He told me when we met that he was unlike any man I had ever dated before. In many ways he is not, but on this front he is the same if not worse for promising not to make me wait and then failing me again and again. I wonder if I should just short cut to tears and snot and mascara in the bath tub on my birthday like the last one ended up? It is hard not to get what your heart most desires when it has been promised indefinitely by the other. 

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After

After he has left me at the airport, the messages start. 

It has suddenly hit him that I am leaving. After…He says he loves me very much, he misses me already. He realized how sad he was that I am actually gone. He can’t wait for me to get back. He was so busy planning our future together – our never ending love story – he forgot to think about the present, until now. After….

He calls because he needs to hear my voice. I am oddly quiet on the phone. I have been dealing with these feelings for weeks and trying to tell him how hard leaving him is. He only experiences it after. 

These messages are more of his mixed signals where he talks about how he is planning our life together and can’t wait for me to come back. He is just so sure that I am coming back to him. 

I wonder if he can hear my heartache. 

I tell him that this was the goodbye I was looking for and didn’t get. I tell him “it’s not you, it’s me”. I can’t explain to him now that it is too late, how much more I needed from him in those last couple of hours, in the last minutes. I know he loves me, but he does not understand what I need. 

I roam the airport and look for food. It is the only thing to soothe the pain now. I need to eat and eat and eat and purge. Going home is supposed to be happy, instead, I feel like I am bleeding. It is slow and agonizing. It is destroying me. 

Now I face 5 weeks where the starvation first started; where I learned to eat my feelings. The triggers have not changed in 20 years. I just chose to live far enough away from them. I take my anxiety over our relationship back with me to add to everything else. 

My mother tells me she has bought me rice cakes. She is enabling and she doesn’t even know it. 

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Leaving 

I am sitting in the airport waiting to go home. There is no ring on my finger. He said he would give me a reason to come back. I guess I thought that meant an engagement. I guess he didn’t think that. 

On Saturday he told me he planned a surprise day in the mountains for our last weekend. He told me he thought it would be good for us and would make me feel less anxious about our relationship as I left for home. My heart lurched. It skipped a beat. I knew that the proposal was coming…I just knew it! He had just waited until the very end. I put on a pretty dress and even painted my nails so they would be perfect for when he put a ring on. 

We drove to the mountains and every moment that was just so romantic for a “will you marry me?” came – and went. We picnicked by a lake and lay in the sun drinking wine. We walked hand in hand, we took a long drive on a deserted road and sat in the middle of nowhere staring at the Rockies and the lakes and the rivers. We laughed and sang and I just couldn’t wait for the moment to come. 

Of course it never came. 

I almost had to laugh at my naivety, my stupidity, my disappointment. 

Last night as we fell asleep he asked if I was ready to be his wife. I didn’t know what to say. The comments like that are the reason I believed he would ask me to marry him before I left. Now I’m just confused by them.

Up until today, I still believed that he would have proposed to me by now. Part of me wondered if he would buy a  plane ticket home and surprise me by just showing up. I will go home with that misplaced hope in my heart. He knows how desperately I wanted him to come back with me. He even hinted that he had thought about surprising me. 

Today he picked me up and took me to the airport. I envisioned making love and cuddling one last time before we left the house, but he wasn’t even remotely interested. He was only focused on getting to the airport. 

We checked in and sat in a restaurant where he told me he had looked at flights for him even a week ago. We didn’t look into each other’s eyes or say anything about how we were feeling. He was mostly agitated about time and needing to get back to work. He was waiting for me to cry, to fall apart and I was dying on the inside. It has been too emotionally overwhelming to find out that we are not where I thought we were and to leave without anything I had hoped for. 

He said he would see me in 5 weeks and then added “or maybe less” and I jumped thinking he meant he was coming home too and that was his way of telling me. “I meant that I would see you on Skype”, was his reply. 

My heart can’t take it anymore. 

At the airport, I waited for the epic goodbye. I had seen this moment a thousand times in my mind. Perhaps he would kiss me passionately and hold me tightly against him. Perhaps he would look into my eyes and say something profound about what I mean to him. Perhaps he would reassure me, put my anxieties to rest. Perhaps as I walked away I would hear his voice and when I turned around, he would be on one knee, smiling at me. 

It was, as usual, a complete let down. He was stressed about getting back to work. He put one arm around me as we waited in line and said he loved me and gave me a peck on the lips. It was a nothing moment. He said he had to run and walked away. Just like that. After everything…

I walked towards security and heard his voice. I turned in anticipation to see that last smile directed at me, to have him come back for one more kiss. Instead, he was talking to a girl he knew, her big, fake boobs in between us. He laughed and chatted and then walked away. His last goodbye was to her. His last look was at her. His last smile was for her. And then he was gone. 

Now here I am, with no reason to come back at all. 

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Damaged 

I wish he knew me before I was damaged. I wish he had met me when I still believed in love stories and happily-ever-after – when I wasn’t jaded or bitter or calloused. I wish he could have known me when I loved without restraint, without holding back or guarding my heart. I wish I hadn’t given that part of myself to others or wasted it on the undeserving. I wish he could have known me before the wounds and hurts and heartaches overtook me; before the disappointments and let downs; before the abuse and neglect and rape. I wish he had known me before all this, when I wouldn’t have held back or demanded timelines or been harsh and unyielding. I wish he could see that I want to give him that, but I’m too scared. When he holds me in the night and soothes me and caresses me and my anxieties leave, I lean against his chest – my head upon his heart – and I know this is it. He is my epic love story and I am sabotaging it. I am giving him a hard time because I’m frightened he will not be true to his word – just like the others. Just like the others I am convinced he will mess me around, make me wait for nothing, damage me more. I am convinced in his difficult situation that we, that I, will not survive. I let it come between us because I cannot fight it. Instead I feel like I am fighting him – the one who loves me. He is paying for the sins of the ones who came before him. I wish I could look at him and tell him: I know. My heart knows. I have never been loved this way before. I love him so fiercely it terrifies me. I love his children and the family we have become. When I am not trying to run, I am happier than I have ever been before. When he holds me in the middle of the night as I cry in distress, conflicted, I know I am safe here. I need to remember that moment in all the other moments that overwhelm me. 

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Wedding Weekend

We went away for the weekend to a wedding for my boyfriend’s cousin. We had the children with us and all his family had traveled there. After a lot of drama involving the mother of his daughter (she thought that she should attend the wedding and I didn’t), we managed to go too.

Road trips are hard for people with eating disorders. There is no routine, there are few ‘safe’ foods and lots of triggers. I was already high on anxiety from the drama by the time we left. I anticipated someone in my boyfriend’s family would make a comment about the little girl’s mother or make one of their stupid pregnancy jokes in our direction. Before we even left, I was on guard and expecting it.

Nothing happened. Nobody said anything dumb. We had a great weekend. We stayed with friends and drank wine and took the kids swimming.

At the wedding I had my heart set on a slow dance with my boyfriend. It was all I wanted. The night went on and on with no chance of it happening as we chased the children around and spent time with his family. His daughter takes up all his time and attention. It is just the way it is. When she is around, his son and I barely get noticed. I had a feeling that I was setting myself up for disappointment by fixating on the one moment I really wanted: a slow dance in his arms.

I do it all the time by setting my heart on something: a romantic date, a weekend away together, him coming home with me to meet my family and of course, an engagement ring. I leave in a week. There is no chance now that I am going home with a ring on my finger.

As the night wore on, I ate more (pasta, potatoes, bread, lasagne – all good for anxiety relief) and drank more and eventually went to purge it all. When I came out of the washroom by boyfriend was standing there looking for me. He had been looking for me for some time.

“Where else would you expect to find me?” I replied in tipsy honesty.

“I should have guessed,” was his response.

Normal people would have been on the dance floor.

By the time he came to get me for the last dance of the evening, his daughter was half asleep on my lap. Her needs trump my needs. I wasn’t going to move a sleeping child so I could go dance. I went back to the hotel and cried in the bathtub instead.

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Reality -2, Expectations – 0

I imagined when I was so upset with my boyfriend that I cancelled our weekend away, that he would realize what he had done and make it up to me. It crossed my mind that he would think to book another chalet and take me away knowing how disappointed I was. If he didn’t do that, I thought at least he would plan a romantic date: dinner or drinks or a movie – something. Nope. Nothing.

Turns out I am stupider than I think.

Last night after work he messaged me on my way home to say he was out drinking but wouldn’t be too much longer. I came home and poured us both some wine. I set out a cheese plate and appetizers. I thought perhaps we would watch a movie and have a nice night in spite of my disappointment.

Three hours later with not a word from my boyfriend, I had purged all the food, drunk most of the wine and went to lie in the bath tub with my book. I eventually messaged him to make sure he wasn’t lying in a ditch. I got a drunken selfie in return. I put on my pajamas, turned off my phone and went to bed.

When he did come home in the middle of the night, 5 hours after he told me he wouldn’t be much longer, he made the mistake of turning on the bedroom light and flying across the room, leaping onto the bed. I woke up in fright, screaming. He landed on top of me laughing and it took me a minute to figure out what was going on. I pushed him away from me asking him what the f**k he thought he was doing. My heart was pounding from the shock.

The stupidity of his answer is almost as alarming as my stupidity, “I didn’t realize you were sleeping. I thought you were waiting up for me. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I know he is drunk. I roll over and try to sleep, but adrenaline is coursing through me. I am wide awake and unhappy. He falls asleep instantly, cozying up to me; one arm heavy over me which I keep trying to remove. He is snoring-farting-moaning in his alcohol induced stupor and I lie there in the dark thinking that there must be more to life than this.

***

The next morning he is sheepish. He thinks I am mad about the near heart failure he induced in me last night. He doesn’t seem to get that I am crushed by the weight of disappointment. He comes upstairs with flowers and coffee for me. He says he is sorry he was an asshole.

“I didn’t mean for last night to turn out that way,” he says

“I didn’t plan this weekend to turn out this way,” I respond as my tears run down and splash onto the Calla Lilies. I try to tell him that I don’t deal well with disappointment. He is mute – immune to my distress.

***

The weekend carries on as usual. We lie in bed and watch movies while it rains-sleets-snows outside. We eat. I purge. We eat again. I purge again.

He doesn’t mention any plans and I don’t ask.

Saturday comes and goes. Sunday comes and goes. On Monday he leaves to go shooting with his friend (ironically in the mountains where we would have been staying). I am angry-cleaning the house when he leaves, trying to scrub my frustration out of dirty counter tops and bathroom floors. I am meant to be relaxing in an outdoor hottub not scrubbing toilets on my hands and knees. He asks if I am ok. I tell him once again that I didn’t plan for the weekend to turn out this way.

“I know,” is all he says.

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