When it's Not About Weight

I feel so unsafe

So I was awakened this morning to the sound of someone in my house crying in distress. Now, I sleep with ear plugs in and on the first level of our house so my bedroom is the only one on the first floor. This person sounded really loud and I was startled awake. I listened carefully before removing my earplugs. After I took them out, I waited to hear more crying but there was nothing. No one was hurting or in danger. Just as I had suspected, it was another cruel trick my mind was playing on me. This happens often when I'm separated from my mom and sister. I could be in the bathroom, which is where it seems to happen most frequently, and suddenly I will hear what sounds like crying or fighting or yelling or arguing but it won't really be going on. It shakes me up quite badly, though, and sends me into a panic. I try to calm myself down and remind myself that it isn't real and that this is something my mind does but sometimes that doesn't work.

I start to hyperventilate and feel like I need to run away. And sometimes I do run away. But this morning was not one of those days. I figured it was just my anxiety or PTSD symptoms but it still affected me. I hate this. Even when I know it's my mind deceiving me, it still hurts and terrifies me. I feel like I'm constantly in fight or flight mode. And that's one reason that makes it hard for me to eat. How can I eat and enjoy food when at any moment I will need to either fight and protect myself or my family or I will need to make a quick escape? What's the point in sitting down to have a meal when I don't feel safe in doing it? A few crackers will do.

And that's how I've been feeling all week, for the past few weeks actually. It's just not safe to eat. It's not safe enough to feed myself. Something could go wrong at any moment so the logical response is: starve... Because that makes sense. I've been struggling so much with the ed side of my brain. With the anxiety and unrest. I could barely bring myself to indulge in meals lately without breaking down in tears or enormous guilt. I try to convince myself that it's okay to eat, that my body needs food. But it feels so wrong to do, it feels like I'm going against a natural function of my body. It's not even something I enjoy anymore, it's just something I try to force myself to do. It's backwards. Anorexia is backwards.

As I come to the finish of this post, I'm anticipating the oven alerting me that my food is ready. And I honestly don't know if I will even attempt to eat it. I just don't feel safe.