Being back in New York, albeit briefly, is causing a whirlwind of emotions. There is a part of me that wishes I could live here and wants to try, again, to somehow make it work. Then there is the other part of me that is overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle, the bright lights, the craziness and can't wait to leave. I'm feeling unsettled, anxious. I'm still not sleeping, and spend my days walking (and walking, and walking). I'm spending as much time as possible with other people and for the most part, enjoy it. I LIKE the fun stuff I do with my friends, and my laughter is genuine...and for moments, I forget.
I forget what it was like when I did live here. I forget what it was like in London. I forget the mess of the last couple of months. I forget that I leave New York on Thursday, and have nowhere to go when I leave the plane. I forget that I have no concrete plans beyond this week, because...well, who knows what landing back in London really means.
I feel like I am in some kind of limbo period. I'm not sure what my next move will be and I lack the patience or clarity in thought to give it any real consideration. I'm exhausted- not in the sense of jet-lag/overexertion, but in the sense that I don't want to DO this anymore.
I'm tired of the constant barrage of thoughts dominating my brain. I don't know how to make it go away- some say weight gain, others suggest medication, some say psychoanalysis, CBT, DBT. I've spent more time talking to psychologists than I have to my own brothers. I've tried eating my damn chicken salad sandwich and drinking whole milk. I've taken the anti-depressants/benzos/sedatives/mood stabilisers/anti-psychotics. There is no magical fix. Food isn't the answer. Medication isn't the answer. Therapy, relaxation, hobbies, friends/family, avoidance...sure, they all have their place and at times have been invaluable, but in terms of long-term stability? I'm starting to wonder if there IS such a thing.
I don't want to try anymore. I'm sick of doctors, hospitals, group therapy, affirmations, meal plans, drugs. I'm sick of pretending I am fine and falling flat on my face because in my haste to be "normal", I forget to eat or sleep. I am sick of wanting a life where I am not bound by the chains of anorexia, yet not knowing how to break free.
I want an answer. I want to know how the hell to get OUT of this mess. Because as time goes by, my options are becoming more and more limited, my vision becoming more and more narrowed. As yet another door is slammed in my face, I become more and more drawn to desperate measures to make it all just *stop*.
eleven months old.
1 month ago