Blackness

I am not doing so well. Or, yes, I am managing, surviving and dealing. But to be honest, I don’t feel that this is heading in any good direction.

At all.

My relationship with Damien is slipping, dying, evaporating. We pass eachother like shadows. He interacts briefly with me and I stand there like a dead fish. Or, in his words, "a stunned mullet". I have no natural reactions, no zest, not interest, no desire. I have nothing.

I exist purely on autopilot. From the first minute I get up in the morning, to the moment I go to bed, I move in waves, cleaning, organising, fixing, tidying, helping, cooking, studying, doing, fetching, making…..I never rest.

It is getting very bad. I have become worse.

I can’t sit down during the ads on TV. And I watch maybe 1 hour of TV a week.

In my mind I feel that if I "just get everything done" I could rest. Yet, of course, there is always something to be done.

I found a new psychiatrist. He called me. We had a brief preliminary phone chat. He said he has one appt before Christmas. This coming Tuesday the 20th. A one hour appt, and thereafter 45min appts. He has had 7 years of ED experience, and seems really nice. He charges the minimum fee, (less than half of many psychiatrists). I am hopeful, but I am not being unrealistic. I have mulitudes of issues, and am more than mildly confused. ..I’m desperately lost.

My weight is not good. In my ED mind I am ecstatic. Although I have no passion left to really feel that happiness. I will see a GP on Monday hopefully to get the referral, and then try to find the GP I wanted to manage my health re: the ED.

I have no appetite anymore. I eat minimally but basically enough to pass as a meal. My BMI is still too big – I am too embarrassed to reveal it. Unfortunately, being underweight by 4kg, still produces such a disgusting BMI. In my mind, 17 or 18 BMI is disgusting. 16 or below, is the only one that seems desirous and valid.

School holidays are here. I have 2 weeks with the child. Some days are okay, others drive me to despair and want to isolate and leave. Sometimes it seems as if she has regressed. Other times I am pleasantly surprised by how mature she is.

The weather here is disgustingly hot. I miss Canada and the snow.

I need some help. I’m considering pathways I never thought my life travel. Being alone, barren, and with depression and obsessions my only companions. Damien wonders how I could be so melancholy, and how I need to try harder to be merry. But he doesn’t know the depths of my blackness, and the expanse of my mind. He doesn’t understand the intensity and scope of my considerations, and my fears.

He loves me. But love was never enough.

I am not enough.

I am too much, and too little. And not at all an amount that will prevail.