Voices

20131026_101639Once again the voices, or tapes in my head, if you will, have been getting louder.  It’s just a constant yelling like a dripping faucet.  It tells me I am ugly and mostly fat.  Ugly because I am fat.  If I could only have a flat stomach, I could be happy, I could relax.  Why didn’t I fast or detox before this vacation?  Well, I guess it’s because I love to eat, and I have a hard time saying no to myself and to food.  I give in too easily.  That’s probably my addictive personality.  I know I am addicted to food. I’ve been addicted to just about everything else.   So does that mean I don’t want it bad enough?  A perfect body of strength? A machine?  Absolutely not.  That’s all I want.  And to be happy.  And those 2 things are interchangeable and reliant upon each other.  For me anyway. And that is just so superficial.  I am not a shallow person,  but apparently insecure enough to believe I  need to look a certain way so no one can see how sick I am on the inside. I feel crazy, but I don’t think anyone else does, thank god. Not until now, anyway.

Then there is the part of me that just wants to relax and eat and drink whatever and whenever I want, because at least that way, I could think about something else.  Like my kids, my relationship, my future.  Actually enjoy them.  Actually have a peaceful moment in my head so I can truly listen, process, and respond to them. Enjoy them.  Imagine that.  I believe that is something normal people experience on an hourly basis?  But I could only function that way for a while. I could never live with myself if I were fat. I am not doing this for anyone else.  I just want to be able to look in the mirror and not want to scream.

I just want the voices in my head to stop.  I don’t believe they ever will.  I have been listening to the same voices for almost 20 years.  It absolutely amazes me that there is so much noise in my brain at once.  I asked someone close to me as we were sitting and eating a meal together, as my mind raced, if she had the same congestion on the highways of her brain, if she felt as though all of her thoughts were firing at the same time in every direction bouncing off each other with nowhere to go, and she replied with a perplexed “No.”  So, apparently, this is an issue only people like me have.  An eating disorder?  A mental disorder?  I wish I knew.

My head is a prison. I can’t escape it. It is absolutely torturous. I want to scream at the top of my lungs all the time. Why can’t I just scream the voices away? I would give anything to be okay with myself the way I am.  When I see someone who appears to be comfortable in their own skin, I am so envious. I want to be that. It’s not just the way I look either. I wish I could speak up for myself. I wish I could talk more comfortably, like the way words flow out and they just sound normal and right? Like when others talk.  I want to make sense.  Instead, I stay quiet.  I am so wrapped up in my own head,  this cage, that I feel paralyzed most of the time when I am supposed to be having a conversation, mainly with people I don’t know very well. This is why I just want to stay home.  I don’t feel comfortable talking to people, being around people.

I want to drink all the time to make this feeling go away.  But I am constantly obsessing about the calories in the alcohol. And on top of that, drinking makes me hungry. So I eat. And when I eat after drinking, I make poor choices. Which leads to me feeling horrible about myself both physically and mentally.  What a cycle. I feel like a mouse spinning in one of those cage wheels.

I can feel it.  The depression is coming back.  I have decreased my medication on my own, and I felt fine for a while.  I don’t know what’s happening, but I recognize this feeling and I know it’s not good.  I am minute by minute suppressing the urge to cry.  I retreat into myself. I can’t go outside.  I can’t talk.  When I want to speak it won’t come out, and when it does, it’s a whisper.  I have been in the hospital on numerous occasions for suicide attempts, but I just couldn’t do that now.  I’ll wait this out.  Don’t get me wrong, life is way better now than it was a couple of years ago.  I went from an abuse, drug addicted husband to freedom and a loving, healthy relationship.

I quit my job.  I need to study.  But I can’t focus. I actually am delusional enough to think I can be a personal trainer. What a dream.  I can’t even raise my voice. How am I supposed to coach people into becoming a better them, when I don’t even know how to be the best me?

I just looked back at a piece I wrote a while back entitled “Inside Outside.”  It is so similar to this.  Someone I know says “people don’t change.”  Am I ever going to change?  Will I always be such a disaster?  Is it possible to recover from a place such as this? I can’t afford therapy.   When I was in  therapy, I was told over and over by different professionals that I had such a broad insight of myself.  They were so impressed with my ability to process my own thoughts.  I apparently didn’t need them, except for as a sounding board.  They rarely said anything to me.  I just talked to hear myself talk.  I talked in one big circle so eventually I answered my own question. Fascinating to the psychologist. Frustrating for me.  Money wasted.  I wanted some feedback.

So, basically I know my brain inside and out.  I can analyze myself no problem.  Isn’t that what I am doing now? If this computer could only really hear me and talk back to me and tell me I was okay, and that everything was going to be alright.  Maybe give me some advice on how to self sooth without medication, how to breathe.  I just don’t know.

I could go on bitching and complaining.  I really don’t feel like I am complaining,  just venting.  I can’t really unload like this on anyone in my life.  They wouldn’t understand and it would just get tiresome I would assume.

Enough for now. I will go on about this day like any other.  Trying to focus.  Forcing a smile.  Obsessing about what I eat and drink. The whole time I have been writing this morning, half of my brain has been typing and the other half was thinking I need to go work out. So apparently I need to go work out.  If I don’t I will feel horrible all day.  What kind of lazy girl can’t get up and go outside?  You think you be a personal trainer?  Look at you?

Yes… those are the voices!  They are loud and clear.  I hate them.  And they obviously hate me.