I’ve been doing this thing lately. This thing where I do…nothing. Oh sure, some days I meet up with friends, but either side of those meet ups, I’m sitting in my bedroom, counting down how many more
days hours minutes there are until a) Matt comes out of hospital and b) uni goes back . I hate having nothing to do.
Actually, I have plenty of things I could be doing, but none are as fun or as time consuming as planning a wedding. Which I am no longer doing. We decided to put back the date. There is a long post here about the why & the how. So now my days are kind of…empty. I hadn’t realised how much of day was wedding related until I didn’t have it any more.
There is another thing that is keeping me firmly glued to my bed. FEAR. On a completely different tangent, it has little to do with the wedding (ok, a bit actually). It’s about my weight. I’m almost back up to my heaviest, simply because I’m too afraid to move. I’m scared to start exercising, because I don’t know how far it will go. Not that I did exerciseat all when I was acutely unwell. Just…I know that ED often rears it’s ugly head in entirely different & new ways just when you think you’ve got it conquered.
So, I’m well in truly stuck. Stuck in a cycle of ignoring and fear and running away (metaphorically). Stuck in a routine of sleeping at 2am and getting up at 10:30am. Stuck in place where it feels like I can do nothing, though I know everything I could be doing. Stuck in therapy that seems to now be going nowhere. It’s apparently a fairly normal at my stage of recovery, but I don’t like it. I can’t deal with it. It feels so much like the deep dark depression I was in, except that now I can actually do the things I want (I just don’t).