Dream or dread

There she sat. Like every other day.
Talented, oh yes. And with a view, that too.
And with some history, unlike many others.

Fuel enough, one would say.

There she sat. Yet another day.
With her overflowing head: very busy at nothing.
And so she was tired, as nothing kept her very busy.

Fuel enough?

There she sat. Dreaming through the day.
Blending her assets into a magnificent novel?
Or blending them into true helpfulness?

Fuel enough, after all!

There she sat. And passed the day.
Dreading her own indifference,
of life going by, without her even trying.

Fuelling nothing but a grotesque frame.


(pathetic attempt at self-chastisement; as if it would change any thing)

From the gutter of my feelings...

Feeling sad, sad ,sad. Depression hitting hard.

Silence deafening me and an increasing load wants to impress me unto the soil it seems.

Man what is this and why?

I'm feeling myself so dirty, but the option of taking shower feels like a torture.

Thousand things to do, thousand things that I WANT to do, perhaps it's all too much on my own?

Please let me hide in my bed and sleep the time away end read some pleasant things in case I might wake up for some moments.
Please grant me loneliness, to get healed by the absence of distraction.
Please grant me company to know that I'm alive and celebrate our breathing and eyes and legs.

Please, please, please, this feeling ain't much fun and my days seem like utter failure.

Or do you think I could go for shopping and mingle with the people, while being a creep from the gutter?

Wanna eat!

Copied from the Cambridge Diet forum. As it's good to have this "summary of my eating-history" also for myself


Sigh. Such a long way to go. A year perhaps? And I'm missing food so much...

When I started, I promised myself that once or twice every week I would be allowed to share an evening meal with my family. I needed that, just to get the courage to go ahead.

But after one meal I understood that it doesn't work at all: it's so hard to get back to dieting afterwards and of course it interrupts the ketosis.

So gradually it's sinking in that i must really settle for Cambridge Diet only and at this moment that makes me feel a bit sad and depressed.
After all, I'm a food-addict since I was about 4 years old and food was the thing that kept me going, even when I was very depressive for many years, in the past.

I used to be bulimic in my teens, till mid-twenties. Gradually bulimia converted to binge-eating. Happily I also grew away from the binge and since about 5 years, I "just eat too much and too often"

My weight is so high (179 kilo's/28 stones) that going outside tires me too much. I can only walk a couple of minutes. Shopping is very hard, so my teenagers do the "small" shopping. I only go once a week for the bulk. So most of the time I'm at home and eating breaks the days and keeps me happy.

And now I have to learn to have great days without food. But I guess you all would have similar struggles, so i'm sorry for my lament

I'm actually very curious if some of you also used to suffer from bulimia or binge-eating-disorder? Did you also grow out of it? Or did you get therapy or so?

Once again, sorry for my long post...I guess I should start a diary

Without

Last Sunday morning I woke up and decided there and then that I will start Cambridge diet that very day. No preparations, no copious farewell meal of favourite foods. Just start.

And so it happened and, oh surprise, till today I am true to it. The fifth day.

Yesterday I had lost over five kilo's already, but sadly the scale's battery has given up the ghost, so no way to motivate myself by weighing today.

I think I can allow myself a bit of measured pride, though it is very early days, of course.


But now the other side of it.

Am writing so nice and civilised, not? But oooohhh, I am so frustrated, angry, depressed today. Grinding my teeth. Arms burning with the wish to lash out at something.

Handling the foods for family and not able to take even one bite of it. Can kill the world right now!

So, the counter-attack of my food-addiction has started.

Don't ask about my mood! Don't be nice with me! Don't touch me! DO NOT BOTHER ME!
Man, I just wish to growl and snarl and curse each and everyone!


Or do I actually need to weep?


My friend, my dear friend, who appeased me through the days, has left me.

The oldest mate of my life. Wasn't I three years or so, when we met?

Got to stand on my own feet now. And ought not mourn a friend, who wrapped me in mountainous layers of impossibility.

Wish a poem?

why would I wish to write a poem?
Strongly wish to write a poem!
For poem's sake? "I have written a poem". Sounds interesting! Not?
Or to get a bit of attention and "praise' on WDC? (For what it's worth)
It's hard to define, but I just love it: to write a poem. To fight with myself, to shape it, to omit, to make fluent. It's like a puzzle, yes, but really so much more than that. It's inspiring, it's challenging, it's feeling "essential" - to find the essence of my thoughts, feelings, myself even.

Oh God (Astaghfirullah), how childish, this writing. As much "blah", or rather: much more "blah" than my previous entry!

BUT!!! I JUST WISH TO WRITE A POEM!!!

Circumstances not allowing though: no peace of mind and time!

Blah, blah.

Blah, blah, because I just want to write, the journal type thing.

Blah, blah also, cause it is pretty "yuck" that tomorrow I have an intestinal check-up, so i'm not allowed to eat anything today (except a light breakfast) and tomorrow, till it's done (apptmnt at 10.30), had to take a laxative, which happily didn't create havock (as they suggested).
Such a check-up: so embarassing basically, especially with my "elegant" shape; but such thoughts simply have to be brushed aside. After all, it's the profession of the doc, many people had/have to face the same embarrassment and it's highly necessary (that alone is enough to forget about feelings of shame and unease).

After dr Perry said, that they're expecting that something like Crohn's disease has caused the hole between my bowel and bladder, slowly the feeling grew that it may be true afterall. Am I not having all types of mostly mild but confusing symptoms since at least fifteen years? Plus that even when I was small, I would soon have diarrhoea. I thought I had irritatable bowel after the salmonella attack of years ago, but it may be very well somethinhg more serious, damaging the stuff progressively over the years, till a hole occurred.
Well, we'll see, i hope they'll tell soon!

hmm, am a bit hungry now. Good that i'm "trained", thanks to Ramadan! Nina is cooking, dal, smells nice. I think I should take a cup of tea or some stock, it'll help, Inshallah.

Waiting and watching.

Waiting in the hospital.
In a crowded hall.
People coming and going.
I concluded they were diabetes patients, most of them, at their regular test, receiving medication and a new appointment.
So, they were not very ill. Mostly vital people. Personalities and appearances as diverse as can be.

I was sitting there for over an hour. Probably due to myself being fifteen minutes late.
I can wait very well. Enjoy waitng. Discretely observing people.

Till I was startled by the realization that I was the exception.
I saw people who seemed to go about the business of their daily life, in all their diversity.
And that is something that I can't do. I made myself that extremely heavy that "going about daily life" is impossible. For all to see. See me and you know instantly that i will not be able to cope.

It was hard. And I knew that I no longer wish to be this type of exception.
I can't afford anymore to be unable to do anything.
Can I walk?
Can I cycle?
Can I climb the stairs, stand in a row, wash the windows, go on a trip, ride horses?
Can I accompany my children?
Can I do anything when it is later in the day?
No. No. No.
It hurts, I pant, my heart and head nearly burst, I am overcome by tiredness, my legs have so much trouble carrying me, that I seem glued to the ground.
So I sit. Most of the time. And even sitting is tiring.

And now it must be enough.
I lost weight last Summer and it was helpful. But it was tough too, to abstain.
And then things were not easy and I was tensed and tired, so I started eating again, more than normal even.
So all that I lost is back; in only six months all efforts gone waste.

And there I sat. Among all those people. Many of them way older and fitter than me.
I sat there as a consquence of my weight. Knowing that because of that weight diagnosis and treatment is going to be hard, if not impossible.

What more do I need to convince myself that I am actually already too late to lose weight?

It could only take eight months, if I stick to the diet rigorously, to get such a weight that I can even ride an Arabian horse again. That I can run to the bus again and go shopping for clothes, with my children, easily.

Why so afraid?
Food is the thing that keeps my mood happy, that pulls me through the days.
It is sick to admit it, but its true.

Eight months, to lose an odd hundred kilos, look like a door I can't open, because I have no key.
It looks like I am going to inprison myself. It looks, LOOKS, impossible.
BUT IT IS NOT!
So many people have proven that already.
Are they less tired than me? Are they stronger than me? Do they have better reasons than me?

SHUT UP YOU GIRL!
GO AND DO IT AND DON'T MOAN LIKE A WEAKLING!
I HATE MYSELF SOMETIMES!
AND ALL SHOULD HATE ME, my near ones that is, CAUSE I BURDEN THEM UNJUSTLY AND THEY BY NOW HAVE A RIGHT TO DEMAND SOMETHING FROM ME

Why do i feel like I am making theatre here?

DROWN IN YOUR SHIT YOU STUPID
it will happen soon enough if you don't stop "eating" now!

Running with my head against the wall.

Nearly fifty and still feeling like a teenager with the whole future ahaead of her: my time will come. Yeah, GET REAL.

OK, there I am, with my generally sweet and optimistic temper, perfectly able to pass days in perfect emptiness. Zapping through the hours, a bit of householding, a larger bit of hanging behind the pc, bit of TV, bit of chatting with the children and always focussing on what next to eat, to keep it all bearable.
Wasn't I a strong girl? Wasn't I very active, some twenty years ago?
I have no answers.
All I know is that I still may have many options, IF AND WHEN, I start to act NOW.
Every day I will continue in emptiness, will eat more away of the little time I may have left, will eat more away from my health and the wellbeing of my whole family.

Sometimes I just wish to kick and beat myself till bleeding, hoping that it will help to shake me up.
Yeah. Again.
Am far too lazy and too self-indulgent to change anything ever.
Truth.