something like an awakening

Thursday started like most Thursdays do.

I got up. I took my pills. I showered. Got dressed and went to work.

I even packed a lunch. 1 oz. of cheese and 1 oz. of summer sausage and 2 medium carrots.

But it wasn't really a normal Thursday. For starters, I had an appointment with the treatment center doctor that afternoon. In a panic about said appointment, I'd taken laxatives the night before.

I weighed in at 105.8 lbs that morning, and I felt happy and then frantic.

Because I know that if the doctor sees more weight loss, I'm going to get pushed into more intensive treatment.

That's why I packed the lunch.

I was making more trips to the bathroom than normal, and they weren't very pleasant, but I was certain that was just the laxatives. Around noon, I started feeling sick to my stomach. I figured I should try eating something, so I ate a handful of almonds. Then I ate my cheese and summer sausage, but it didn't go away.

About an hour later, I suddenly realized, I AM GOING TO PUKE.

So I got up quickly from my desk, took two steps towards the bathroom, and a client walked in. He had some changes to a design. He was rattling them off, and I stood there frozen, not even listening. I just kept repeating DO NOT PUKE in my head. Finally he left, and I bolted towards the bathroom.

I had just grabbed the door handle when the client CAME BACK IN.

I didn't even move to go talk to him. I made him stand across the room and shout some more things at me because I was positive if I moved, I was going to throw up all over the room.

Eventually he said "ok" and I took that as my cue. I fled into the bathroom, barely getting the toilet seat up in time to lose my lunch and all the zero calorie powerade I'd been drinking.

I don't do very well with throwing up.

I cleaned myself up and walked out of the bathroom, shaking. I told my boss. I'm pretty sure I interrupted her mid sentence to blurt out "I just threw up." She told me to go home, so I did. I cancelled my appointment, and then from 2:00 pm until 11:00 pm, all I did was throw up.

I'm pretty sure I had a fever through most of it. I was half delirious and utterly miserable. It was definitely the worst flu I've had in a long time. I remember getting really panicky that I was going to become severely dehydrated because I couldn't even keep water down. I also remember laying in bed and feeling my bones sharply protruding more than ever. But it didn't make me feel happy like it normally did. Instead I just felt scared.

I wasn't sure if my body could handle a bad flu virus after everything I'd done to it.

I slept fitfully through the night, but Friday morning I woke up relieved to find that my stomach no longer hurt. Of course all my muscles still ached and walking down the stairs almost made me pass out, but at least I wasn't throwing up.

I stepped on the scale and it said 103 lbs exactly.

I felt slightly happy about that, but mostly I felt scared.

So I spent the day laying on the couch and watching old episodes of How I Met Your Mother. I ate half a sleeve of saltine crackers, a sugar free jello, and some chicken noodle soup. I felt slightly panicky about it, but mostly I felt relieved. For dinner I ate a baked potato with some butter and salt.

That night, laying in bed, my brain was spinning. I had so many contradicting emotions and thoughts flying through my head, and I couldn't focus on any single one of them. They'd asked me if I'd ever had racing thoughts at the hospital, and I'd said no. Now I'd have to say yes. It was horrible, overwhelming. It made me feel crazy. The Mr. kept trying to get me to tell him what I was thinking, and I couldn't. Not wouldn't. I physically couldn't.

So I took a pill. And I went to sleep.

And now here I am today, uncertain and conflicted. I don't know what all those emotions meant. I don't know how to interpret them. I don't know if I want to.