Things are getting under my skin more than normal. I think it is because being frustrated is about as comfortable as I feel with my anger right now. Occasionally things will make me angry but not the type of anger that makes me feel scared of my feelings.
One of the things I'm mad about right now is how well I can play the e.d. game. Yesterday when I was talking with Hubby about some stuff, he was concerned that in taking care of all of the things that need care right now, that I will not take care of me. But I play the game. I smile and tell him that won't happen. All the while knowing that I'm not taking care of myself right now. I hide my lie well.
Like yesterday when Hubby took me to McDonald's for breakfast, I had the sandwich without even blinking. Inside I was cringing but couldn't let him know that. I smiled. I pretended. What he doesn't know is that while I faked it , smiling the whole time, that a mocha and a bagel rounded out the rest of my food for the day. The bagel was a last minute thing simply out of respect for my pregnant friend who I was on the phone with. Didn't seem fair to her for me to not eat when I know she doesn't feel like it but has to.
And usually my body will give me away but now even my body is playing along. Rather than losing my sex drive, it has practically doubled. So he can't tell that way. When I'm hanging with him, I eat. So he can't tell that way either. I'm tired but that isn't really that abnormal. I am playing my lie well. I eat, just not enough. That should make everyone happy right? I mean they see me eating so they are happy. And I know that I am not eating as much or as often so I should be happy as well.
But it makes me mad with myself that I hate dishonesty but live a lie. Somehow, knowing when and what to eat to keep my stomach from betraying my secret by growling has come back as easy as breathing. Somehow, smiling and pretending has become second nature again. I am doing the minimal amount to maintain. I'm doing enough to keep questions and worries at bay but I'm not actually wholeheartedly pursuing recovery like I should.
What is the big deal? Why does food feel like it is the enemy? Why can't I just get my schtuff together and just do what I need to do??????? My brain can be mad all it wants, it can reprimand me, it can try to tell me it is no big deal. But my body just can't seem to listen. That is frustrating.