Day three and the war has yet to be won. But progress has been made.
Is there truly ever such thing as a war that is won?
The foot soldiers have been marching their ankles to the bone and firing their defenses until gunpowder covers their thin faces like a mud mask. They’re beaten and tired and cramped; they’re famished and their sanity is slipping.
We’ve called in for reinforcements.
The care packages sent last night were too early and landed on enemy territory; they abolished them.
In other words, I ate a tuna sandwich last night and at 12:00 a.m felt a sharp stabbing all around my gut. I could hardly lean over before it all blew out of me like a pressure washer.
I’m not a fan of fish, it always has an interesting (not appetizing) flavor to it but I don’t mind tuna. However, it coming back up was a whole new level of disgusting.
I’m still food poisoned, evidently. I thought I could keep food down last night, but I very fucking obviously couldn’t. I think I deserve a medal for being drop dead sick, still high on 20mg of Ativan and still dragging my ass to math yesterday.
I’m willing to compromise: give me an A in the class and I’ll be fine.
This morning I awoke from another slew of odd, realistic dreams (often a side effect of Ativan for me, even after a few days of not having it) very hungry. A primeval kind of hungry. The kind of hungry you’d be willing to smack a baby across the face to quell. The kind of hunger that would make you kick a stranger in the balls to snatch the half eaten burrito out of his hands. The kind of hunger where, if you have the choice between lasting another ten minutes for a full course meal and a well-cooked human face right now, you’d slurp up that face without hesitation.
I’ve maybe consumed 100 calories within the last two and a half days.
My breakfast this morning was planned very carefully, according to Google’s medically certified (NOT) recommendations of what to eat when suffering through Food Poisoning or the Flu or any gut related illness. I had noticed the other day that only tuna came up, but not the half of can of fruit cocktail I ate; my brain had been craving it all day, as if it instinctively knew soft foods will digest quicker and therefore cause less of a commotion. So I wasn’t surprised Google said Apple Sauce and Bananas are a great way to get some calories and nutrition in your body.
White rice, as well. Wasn’t expecting that.
So my breakfast consisted of an Apple Sauce cup and about a handful of plain white rice.
I feel like one of those people who have become “morbidly super obese” for whatever reason (eating disorder, thyroid issues, family tradition) and are now stuck on a bland diet after their gastric bypass surgery. Although I’m not sure if you’re allowed to eat rice after that type of surgery. Does anyone know? If you do, tell me. I know you’re not supposed to drink carbonated fluids.
I have never had this type of sickness before. I’ve only had the flu once, when I was 10, and it scarred me for life; I’ve had a grave fear (but not phobia) of vomiting ever since. But because I didn’t understand the source of my sudden fever, nausea, and inability to eat food, it triggered my health anxiety.
I consider myself a strong willed person. I don’t take shit. I won’t take your shit, my parent’s shit, my friend’s shit–I won’t even take my own shit. So I’m also stubborn. But it’s the reason I’ve learned a lot of techniques to calm myself down from a panic attack, including breathing and walking and talking myself through the process so as to reassure my brain on a very real level that I’m okay.
But when it comes to my health . . . well, I’ve yet to crack that rotten fucking egg. In 2014 I contracted some kind of weird (probably relatively normal) sickness and my brain created physical symptoms to exacerbate the sickness. I had a panic attack and yada, yada, same old story.
I’m trying to gain control over my thoughts. When I feel myself disconnecting from the world and worrying about my health. Today has been better physically, but worse mentally. Being stuck in my room for three days without any human contact besides a few moments with my father, I get lost in the anxiety and paranoia of my own mind and find myself on the verge of more panic.
Comforting myself is difficult when my mind is lost in itself. I’ve been too scarred this week to force myself to eat, so every time I take a bite I get nauseous. My father doesn’t remember I was in the hospital, or food poisoned, and my mother only references how it’s been stressful for her to have to be in and out of hospital and doctors appointments this week. Which I acknowledged wholly; I bet it is. But . . . at least you’re not on the hospital side of things.
It’s never been acknowledged how hard it is to deal with everything that I do. I never paid mind to it because no one else did. But now that I think about it, I realize how much support I haven’t received. How much more attention I get for my physical problems than I ever do for my mental issues. Once again, I had to fight to get to the hospital. This time over money.
I said I didn’t care how much a visit would cost. It would be my debt, not my mothers. And she’s stressing like she’s the one who can’t breathe with a heart rate of 140 and a blood pressure level of 160/92.
By the way, the social worker got me emergency insurance and the visit and prescription was paid for.
I still haven’t been asked if I am okay. It hasn’t been acknowledged how terrifying those incidents are. It’s never been acknowledged and it never will be. I’m still in the process of accepting that.
I think there’s a reason my stomach is still upset, and it isn’t entirely physical.
Whatever the reason, I’m going into this weekend and next week with as positive of an attitude as I can. I’ve always promised myself no matter how many obstacles my mentality throws at me, no matter what limitations I may or may not develop, I would never let either one or both of them result in my downfall. It’s not because I give a shit about my “duty to society” or my “duty to myself” or honor or whatever people think they need to be strong for, it’s because I choose not to let them be my downfall.
I have no reason to have a downfall. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?
That’s the thought I’ll be sleeping on tonight. Hopefully it resonates in my dreams.