I'm standing on a cliff. I can either take a leap of faith that God will give me the help and strength and the unknown Something to make my clean, complete, and absolute break from the Processed and Allergy-Inducing into my Body's begging, insistent, restrictive but Needed Nourishing and Healing required Eating Pattern/Lifestyle/fill-in-the-word-please------------
OR
I can, mouthful by mouthful, day by day, weekend by weekend, continue to sit with my knees drawn up in this dusty, grainy, dry grass on top of this Cliff and kill myself with Inflammation.
Abdominal pain, sharp and burning, when I eat too much saturated fat.
Twisting, jarring spasms of muscles, tendons, soft tissues.
Swollen, stiff, aching claws of hands from arthritis.
Mucus clogging, choking, draining in my nasal passages, throat, and chest from milk solids and milk products.
Violent nausea, vomiting, diarrhea due to allergies to Nightshades, chemicals, and preservatives.
I tried to express this driving MUST feeling, of me standing on this Cliff, of my feeling trapped, MUST MUST MUST, to my husband.
I was unsuccessful.
He started telling me about his lunch menu today. I leaned my forehead against the glass of my bedroom window, feeling its smooth coolness, trying to soothe myself, while at the same time wishing it was one of the concrete walls in my apartment so I could beat my head against it in frustration.
I wanted to scream at him:"I don't want to talk about food! I don't want to cook! This isn't about FOOD!"
This is about the Cliff and the Abyss and the Sky and the Earth and the River. And the MUST.
The terror of both action and inaction.
I either jump into a new world of Health, or I will die.
#SexualTrauma
#incestsurvivor
#BorderlinePersonalityDisorder