Grief, anger and healing journey

I haven’t checked my weight for a long time. The last time I did, I had ga`ined about 12 kgs. Since then, I couldn’t muster the courage to check again. I eat, but I don’t enjoy the food. I drink, but I don’t enjoy the high. I eat measured and weighed healthy food all week, but end up drinking on weekends and sometimes weekdays too. I relapsed in January, and it’s been 3 months. Some days I feel a little better, but some days I can’t stop crying. Simple tasks like getting out of bed, taking a shower, or stepping into the kitchen feel overwhelming.

In my last therapy session, my therapist asked me to write letters to the people I’m angry at. I don’t have to send them, just pen down my thoughts. It feels like my therapist has opened a gate that was locked forever. I’ve been on edge all week. Writing these feelings is challenging because I mostly feel them when I’m walking or driving. Music helps me connect with my emotions and vent. I’m no expert, but I understand the real feelings behind this anger. It’s nothing but all the pain accumulated since childhood that I couldn’t express back then. When I’m walking at a good pace, I feel very vulnerable. Though the pain is different, I’m a different person than I was back in 2017 to 2019; this whole situation feels familiar in my heart and body. At times, I even smell the same environment.

My only motivation is going to the office every day because thankfully, the office environment is healthy, and I have a routine to follow. Everything else is the same. I come home to an empty apartment, craving a warm, tight hug. A couple of days ago, some friends asked, ‘Are you okay?’ I answered, ‘No.’ The next question was, ‘Are you seeing your therapist?’ I answered, ‘Yes.’ Sure, I have my therapist to heal me, but having someone in person to sit with me and my pain, hold my hands while I cry, and hug me when I’m falling apart is something I miss. Since returning from the US, I’ve never been this vulnerable. This loneliness is familiar. I came back to India so that I don’t end up dissociating during these challenging times. But the same pattern is repeating. It’s hard enough for me to be in my own space, travelling to another city and staying in someone else’s space is unfathomable. I feel like a robot all day. By the time I come home from the office, I feel like a switch button operated me all day against my will, and I need to rest. I’m so exhausted; I don’t feel like speaking to anyone. Sometimes, I speak to one of my friends (who has no idea what’s going on with me). I finish my chores while speaking to her because I know I wouldn’t be able to do it by myself. And this is why weekends are more difficult. I don’t have the strength to pull myself out of bed. I missed a couple of concerts and a few open-mic poetry and storytelling nights I booked in advance for the weekend.

Every week is a new challenge, and now with the weight gain, there’s another challenge. I need to deal with my family as to why it happened and the eye rolls of my neighbours back home. This ‘love-hate’ relationship with my body is so complicated.

I don’t doubt that I will come out of this; I know I am capable. The question is when? I feel so lonely and frustrated. I feel like a 4-year-old kid disguised in the body of a 34-year-old woman who needs to be held, but all I hear is, ‘I will get better,’ ‘I deserve better than this,’ and ‘I have conquered bigger battles than what I am dealing with right now.’ This process is not easy. One needs to be very strong, brave, and ready to fall apart multiple times to heal, which is why very few people choose healing over suffering. I am proud of the fact that I take help and choose to heal because I do not want to suffer all my life and impact my relationships.