I have not had a good ugly cry in a while. And I have a feeling it will be happening soon.
I am exhausted. Since my diagnosis (2016), I have yet to sleep through a single night (minus nights in the hospital after surgery). I wake up multiple times each night, sometimes from hot flashes, sometimes from terrifying dreams where I am literally startled awake, sometimes just to pee. Most nights upon waking, I make my way to the fridge. I eat blueberries (sometimes a whole pint. I’m not kidding), sometimes some almonds, ocassionally dark chocolate (last night. Oops). And then I go back to bed thinking how terrible it was that I ate at 2 in the morning, and what that most be doing to my IGF-1 levels, and how disgusting I am, and how I’ll always be “fat” because I have no “self control”, and on and on. And at 2 or 3 in the morning, I don’t have the clarity of mind to talk myself down from that place. So then I somehow fall back asleep (though not necessarily quickly), and wake up the following hour. Sometimes I stay in bed after the initial awakening. Sometimes I get up and go to the living room and try to read. But I hear the cupboards taunting me from the room next door. Some nights I feel so terrible about it all that I just cry.
The real issue here is…. well, there are several. Let’s start with number 1.
I need to sleep.
Sleep is very important. We hear it all the time. It’s the bodies chance to repair and restore. If you’re not sleeping, you’re not repairing or restoring.
When I wake up during the night, I’m often pissed, shaken, sad (and sometimes actually hungry, but most of the time, not really). So I go to the fridge. Because rather than sit with the feelings, I am looking for a distraction, a diversion. So the impulse to consult the refridgerator makes a lot of sense, but the problem is it leads to regret, self loathing, and SHAME (this is problem number 2).
Typing this out has been difficult for me because I feel a tremendous amount of shame around my night-eating. I feel shame for the “you have cancer and you’re fucking up your hormone levels so if you die soon it will be all your fault” reason (that’s issue number 3). And shame for the “normal” American female reasons (they might be common/ nearly universal, but they’re not healthy).
The stuff with food and weight still plagues me. In some ways, it’s comforting to have some things carry over from my previous life. In other ways, I’d rather not deal with the food stuff at all and just eat like a normal human being.
Since I have not had adequate sleep in year, and since I am on drugs that shut down my ovaries and stop my body from making estrogen, and since I can never have children, and since I statistically may not make it to 30, it is really no wonder that I am a fucking moody wench.
I forget all of this, probably because I’m adjusting to this new life…
(But fuck statistics, seriously).
I need to cry. I can feel heavyness resting on my chest, and that needs to be released. Sometimes, I think it’s okay to throw yourself the pity party, as long as you don’t stay in the party hat too long. (Or eat the cake at 3 am) (whatever that means).
Edit: or, you could puke in a neighbors driveway (not your own, of course) after a run in 85 degree weather. That’s a release, too. 👍🏻💪🏼