Not about me

I feel sick because I've (once again) eaten my body weight in food. This binging thing rears it's head every once and awhile, usually to numb out any form of discomfort. Ironically leaving me with more discomfort - this nauseous, bloated, cramping stomach, the reflux rising up to my throat.


I'm not sure how I feel about acceptance, particularly of something that hasn't been properly diagnosed. But I can feel that diagnosis right at my fingertips, and it's sharp and harsh and I don't want to face it at all.


I feel like a victim when, in fact, I have so much to be grateful for. Mum could have been a drug addict, or a child abuser. She could have neglected me, or dated man after awful man, or committed crimes. Instead I have been blessed with a mother who has dedicated her heart and soul to mothering. To nurturing and caring and being selfless. One of my greatest teachers - of how to treat others, how to enjoy life's adventures, how to sacrifice, and how to keep. moving. forward.


There's so much more to add, but I'm feeling sick and hot, frustrated and anxious. My mind expertly jumping to the future - the what if's, the glimpse of the living nightmare and heartache on the horizon. Dad too. I don't want to accept any of this if it means accepting that my parents beautiful love story of 50+ years will end with this - shattered trust, forgotten memories, denial and confusion.


I've been getting this tightness in my chest, my breathing so shallow, and I think I'm sort of suffocating. Can't we have more time? Why now, when I want to enjoy newly married life - trying for a baby, having a child and sharing that joy with my family? I want to ask my mum about all of it - before that's gone, too, and trust that her recollections are real.


I don't want to waste the decent, mostly good times worrying about what's to come. But it's hard. And sometimes I can just revert to those old patterns - binging on substance (this time food), crying in a heap, leaving work early in a puddle of tears. The closed curtains in the middle of the day, under the covers in fetal position. The microsleeps in between reading/watching tv/youtube. Spending my time being taken over by fear.


That was my day today but I think enough has changed for me to not allow this to take over. It will be me but fewer and far between - pick myself up a little quicker, shake it off if just for a little while. I enjoy my work too much, my family and friends and husband too much, for this to take over completely. After all, it's not about me. It hardly ever is.