Monday after my therapy I feel back into the comfort of my bed until 10 30 a.m.
I had two goals that morning. First: internalise that I can do all the things that I am meant to. All the things that I want to do. Second: avoid a morning binge on pastries because it only sets my day into a painful spiral of obsessing about food thus leading me to overeat or binge. There I was abusing my sleep, my head pounding as if I had been out drinking all night.
I wanted to feel some sort of real joy. Naturally, it means getting in touch with my creative soul. So I woke up, put on my baggiest clothes and headed to the university of arts library. There, I indulged into some photography books. Desperately searching for inspiration for my fashion design project. I remembered days when I would stay in the library until 4 a.m at law school. I was there finishing my assignment or revising, but most time I was there to be. The library is a place of solace for me.
When I was first diagnosed with anorexia. Family, friends, and doctors had warned me about the likelihood of dying after such a long period of starvation. One of the main reasons I fought to get better was the dream of reading all those books around me. I was once blurted to my brother that I wish I could read them all. I never wanted to be a know it all. But there is just something about being surrounded by books, picking a random one and trying to understand and remember what is written. It chases my ghosts away.
Three may be four hours I spent in that library. Then it was time to go home. Did some grocery shopping as I felt some the anxiety slowly fading and a motivation to live a healthier life settle in. Dinner was fine. Sadly the ghost of loneliness paid a visit. I ended up almost finishing the box of pop tarts. Full and regretful. I forced myself to sleep. No day is ever perfect.
Tuesday morning, I woke up with a heavy weight of fear and shame. I needed to continue with my research. Unfortunately, yesterday’s motivation had disappeared. So, I willingly procrastinated. I left it all to tomorrow. Until then, there are hours to kill. I watched movies, ate and slept. I knew what I was doing, or not doing. I was aware of my deliberate waste of time. Regardless, I still felt guilty. There isn’t much to say about tuesday. I manage to complete two sketches and ate way too much.
Today, wednesday is a sunny one. Outside at least. Within it is still dark, filled with guilty and anxiety. I pulled myself out of bed to end up at this starbucks cafe across the road. My appartment smells like binges. It is haunted by painful memories of my irresponsibility. My throat is closing up at this very moment, my heart racing. Regretting my past dark week. I am out of bed, having breakfast after being obsessed about food all morning.
My anxiety as I understand it right now is due to procrastinating. Bills I have to pay for my shop. Unemployment. Loneliness. Guilt. Fear of an uncertain future. Worries about my arts and law. Binges. All mashed up into one. I wish the world was empty. I wish noone was here. I wish I could roam the streets aimlessly without thsi irrational fear of being watched, judged, seen.