It’s Sunday, I have a little bit of a headache from the mojitos that I drunk last night. The night was so boring that I started getting anxiety about the calories from the alcohol, which made me feel down and I ended up being as boring as the rest of the people out; I hate being that person, it’s just not right on someone’s birthday, the others were mainly hungover from the night before – something which I found selfish, seeing as they knew they would be celebrating their friend’s birthday the next night, wankers – but I was brought down to their level, now I’m stuck there, resentful.
Trying not to binge on alcohol is ridiculously problematic in this country, when every other fucker in the vicinity is doing it, with youthful vigour and blissful ignorance, it’s hard to to use it as a cover for your own self destructive behaviours: I could have got absolutely twatted, made an ass of myself, finished the night with lots of greasy food and more throwing up, no one would have batted an eyelash, this is acceptable behaviour. But we know the truth: this would not be fun for us. Instead it would be systematic, calculated and ridiculously expensive. I often write about the triggers and parts of the culture I live in that feed into my ED, but barely do I acknowledge the fact that there are parts of my life that make my ED easy to hide; I have learnt that there are situations where I can cultivate and manipulate social behaviours to mine own ends.
When I was at my worst, this was my main driver; alcohol allowed me to skip dinner (getting ready took time), eat while I was out (my inhibitions were lowered so it wasn’t as traumatic to eat in public), and I could purge, for two days, without anyone really noticing that it was not alcohol poisoning. 17-19 was bliss for my ED, it was getting what it wanted and I had completely lost control – I was just being sociable. I had to avoid falling back into this last night, I slowed down, retreated back into myself for a while, a different kind of camouflage I guess, but at least today I’m not feeling too bad. My anxiety levels are up, I’m really hungry, control is slowly slipping from me; usually I’d be too tired to fight it, two late nights in a row, I couldn’t do this by myself today. Lucky for me, I don’t have to.
I haven’t got friends over, or anyone to talk to, I will be laying on the sofa all day watching the cricket. If I can shower soon and get out of my, slightly alcohol smelling, rancid, star wars PJ’s, I will be okay. Cricket, is perfect for meal plans and setting my day by, breaks for: drinks, lunch and tea, then when play ends, dinner while watching the highlights. I don’t have to think when to eat and that takes a lot of the pressure off of my shoulders, I’m also distracted by play and get a peculiar catharsis, the catharsis that only comes from shouting at the TV during major sporting events. I, obviously, do not find cricket boring, I do understand that others do, but for anyone who has problems structuring their eating, I would suggest trying out a cricket schedule – if it’s helped me, you never know.
I’m hoping Ali does well, hits a half century, that Broad gets his fifer, and England end this losing streak. I’m not resting my hopes on it, not with the form we’re in, but I’m going to enjoy the next five days regardless because, well, I have one less responsibility. I’m slowly ending my detox, which has meant a whole week of being hungry, and I’m going to try and get back on track before I start putting on weight and it ends up all higgledy-piggledy.
My next post will be on why and how I lost weight after I stopped starving/binging/purging, it’s something that I take comfort in and it is something I will try and focus on in this coming week.