Sunday, July 28, 2013
It is strange how the unexpected can occur at the most fitting of times. This past week has been a rough one, and has made me realize that I am not nearly as strong as I thought I was. Bad things keep happening, and I succumb to weakness. I make myself ill. I hate myself, and resolve to do better. I do better for awhile until another bad thing happens, and the whole cycle starts over again. Rinse. Repeat. Over and over again.
The last week couple of weeks of July are always depressing ones for my mother. My father died on July 25th 30 years ago. His birthday was on July 27th. She has never gotten over his death, and I don't think she ever will. I was only 5 turning 6 at the time. Although I am sad that I never really had a father, I am definitely over his death. But seeing my mother so down and depressed at this time of year is always difficult. Every year, around this time, we go to the cemetery. We bring flowers, we reminisce, my mother brother and I. So this was already planned for yesterday. But then on Tuesday, my mother got a phone call from my cousin. She had not called for several years, so we automatically knew that something bad must have happened. And it had. My uncle had died, in his sleep, last Friday night. My cousin was in Cuba at the time, so flew back to be with her mother. You can only imagine the effect that this news had on my mother. Not only was this the yearly period of intense grieving for her late husband, but now her brother had died at the same time.
I was numb to the news. I never really knew my uncle. He treated my mother abominably. She came to Canada from Greece when she was 18 and lived with him and his wife. She worked as a hairdresser, long hours six days a week, and he took all her money. He abused her physically and mentally. He forbade her to see my father, but eventually my mother eloped and escaped. Her brother had scarred her for life. And of course, she severed contact with him. So I never got to know him, and when I found out what he had done to her, I never wanted to know him. My aunt was also pretty wicked, adding to the exploitation of my mother. She never worked, and took so much money from my mother. She spied on my mother for her husband. Didn't bat an eyelash when my uncle beat my mother. I have no love lost for her either. So now all these negative feelings have been stirred up in my mother. For the past few years she had been trying to re-establish contact with her brother for some strange reason. He never responded. As he grew older he became more and more mentally unstable. I had no idea why she would ever want him back in her life after the way he had treated her. And now that he is dead, she feels like she never had the chance to say goodbye to him.
So what does this mean? For starters, we still went to the cemetery to visit my father's grave yesterday. And today after I finish work we are going to the viewing for my uncle at the funeral home. Tomorrow morning is the actual funeral. And I do not want to go to either. I am only going for my mother's sake. These people are not family to me, they are strangers. In my opinion, families do not do such horrible things to each other. This is too little too late. It reminds me of a time last year when one of my great aunts from my father's side contacted my mother and asked her to sponsor her grandson to come to Canada. We had not heard from this woman in nearly thirty years, and now that she needed something she was all friendly. Even in my darkest times I would not think to contact these people for anything. Again, they are no better than strangers. They are not family.
So anyhow, all these negative emotions must have taken their toll on me, and even though I always like to think of myself as a strong person, I have broken down over the past few days. I started binging on Wednesday night, after a sixteen day streak of no binging. Sixteen days was an awful long time for me! I was feeling good about myself, and was even planning a treat dinner on Thursday night. But things went downhill after I found out the news about my uncle and saw the effect it had on my mother. And it brought up a lot of hidden emotions about how cheated I have felt in regards to not having much of a family. I won't even get into the fact that my mother's second husband was an abusive alcoholic. Suffice it to say that when it comes to family life I have been dealt a crappy hand. So I started to eat. And eat. And eat. I ate whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. Wednesday night wasn't too bad, only a few cookies, but on Thursday I had donuts, chocolate, nachos for lunch followed by a oreo ice cream sandwich. Dinner was a huge Red Lobster meal. Then we went to see the movie The Conjuring. I was so stuffed I couldn't snack during the movie, and actually slept through half of it. But then when I got home I had more food: more donuts, chocolate and nuts. I slept and slept and when I woke up on Friday I was still full and feeling sick. I can't even begin to count the number of heartburn pills I took. I woke up to an email from my boyfriend about how he was angry at me. And he outlined all the reasons why. And I was so numb emotionally, and so ill, that I immediately called him just to talk everything through and get it over with. I couldn't stand to let that fester. I won't go into details about what went on with him, but surprisingly we had a GOOD talk, and things are actually looking up for our relationship. For now, anyhow. He can be kind of insensitive when it comes to timing sometimes, but on this occasion, it seemed to work in his favour. In any case, at least I didn't have to worry about him on Friday. But I still kept eating. I went out with my mom during the afternoon to try and distract her from things. First we went to order a funeral wreath. Then we went to Lazyboy and she bought herself a power recliner, which was nice. Then we went to this Polish supermarket where unfortunately they give out samples. So I sampled and sampled. And bought lots of tasty, unhealthy food for dinner: pork schnitzel, perogies, creamy coleslaw, a giant bagel pretzel and a red velvet cupcake for dessert. Plus lots of chocolate. And I ate it all that evening, along with some Irish Cream. And mind you, I was already feeling sick, but I just kept eating. I ate myself to sleep.
Which leads me to Saturday. I slept for about 13 hours Friday night, and I STILL felt tired when I woke up. And I still felt sick, even sicker than when I went to bed. I was nauseous and couldn't even imagine eating a bite. But this is the crazy part. After going to the cemetery, all I did was eat and sleep again. I would eat some chocolate, or cookies or whatever, read a few pages and fall asleep for about twenty minutes. Then I would wake up and do the same. Insane, really. Dinner was tomato soup, orange juice and about half a box of Ritz crackers. I was seriously ill, but I kept eating. I went to bed early again, and found it difficult to get out of bed this morning.
So that brings us to right now. I managed to make it to work on time. I packed a healthy lunch. I feel a bit better today, but have the visitation and funeral to face still. I think my binging is over, but I'm not really sure. I don't think my body can take much more of this. I'm still nauseous, full of gas and bloating and heartburn. I haven't exercised properly since Tuesday, and don't think I will get the chance again until this coming Tuesday. I haven't weighed myself, and if I did I wouldn't be surprised if the number was up by ten pounds considering the literally thousands of extra calories I've consumed since Wednesday night.
I am disgusted with myself. I know I have been going through emotional turmoil, but that is no excuse. I really have to get a handle on this emotional binge eating before it erases all my hard work completely and destroys me.