Ultimatums, Pot, and Panic Attacks.

Fear tactics just don’t work for me. I just get pissed. No, don’t threaten me, don’t attempt to scare me.

Well, my mother tried to hit me with an ultimatum after our last conversation together. She was planning a trip out of the country but because of finally finding out about my eating disorder she hit me with a do this or I’ll do that.

Good ole Kathy told me that, “I will cancel my trip and have you put into treatment myself. Or, you need to show interest and go back into outpatient on your own.”
I did what any good daughter would do, “Oh, mom, you can’t cancel your trip, you have been looking forward to it so much. I’ll consider looking back into outpatient and making an appointment when you are gone.”…blah blah blah, bull shit bullshit bullSHIT.
So, mom is still out of the country for a few more days. She messaged me a few times on Facebook…”Oh, yeah, I just forgot. I’ll call C in a couple days, make an appointment.” “Oh, I’ve just been so busy with work.”

Then I began to feel the weight of the world fall on me, and my frail legs couldn’t hold it all up and together. I called out of work, spent time with my brothers, remembered how much I hate my step dad. I decided to relieve my grandmother, pick my brothers up and spend some time with them. My step dad is about as useful as a bike to a goldfish, no help to my grandmother, spending no time with his own sons… anyway. I picked them up, took them back to their house and decided to spend the night, we were planning a fun day together. My step dad refused to let me take them, even though he had given approval earlier that day, but then informed me he had to work the next day. He owns his own company, he is the boss, but yet he wouldn’t take one day off….?
So, I still decided to spend the night. I got up early the next morning and went on a long 6 mile run. Felt great, loved it, starting the day off with -500ish calories. Apparently step fuck went into my brother’s room raising all kinds of hell wondering where I was. His sleepy response was, “she went on a run.”, so I got home, hadn’t eaten in anything substantial in like 3 days anyway, and step fuck was gone. We laid around the house for a few hours, talking, watching a movie, etc, I wasn’t feeling too great after my run and no food. I decided I was not going to be some live in nanny who was told what she could or could not do with her brothers. I ordered them pizza, and went outside to shoot hoops with them while I was waiting for the pizza to come so I could head home. Then I saw it……
there, hidden under the morning glories, the basil, the cherry tomatoes… pot… marijuana, indica… that little step fuck was growing his own pot. His 21 year old daughter is getting her concealed carry permit, works with children, has two jobs, scholarship, and yet he is going to act like he is twenty with control issues, tell me what to do while he is growing pot… mature much? The pizza came, I paid for it, the sight and smell of pizza was enough to make me want to throw up- huge fear food of mine.
That was just more shit on the shit cake. Then I decided to go to Wal-Mart. I wasn’t even buying food, I got a planner, highlighters, a movie, coffee, and was standing in the candle aisle when I felt like I was spinning. I couldn’t breathe, the amount of people rushing past me was making me anxious, the mere thought of food was enough to send my body into a frenzy. There I stood in the aisle as one old lady, staring blankly at the candles.
Everything was just falling down around me. Rumors about me going around this small town, how fat I felt, how much I can’t stand my family, the fact that my 13 year old brother wanted to smoke his father’s pot, I couldn’t stand to eat, I can’t bring myself to go back to treatment. I felt so overwhelmed and all I could do was stand there, frozen, staring at the candles. People commenting on my weight, my relationship with people going to shit, wearing clothes and getting dressed was such a chore. I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw up, pass out, or start crying; my legs weak, and my head spinning. My cart, full of only 5 things, remained glued to that aisle floor, as my vision was just getting blurry, and the distance between the cart and I grew.
I made it to the entrance of Wal-Mart with nothing in my hands besides my keys, phone, and debit card. I got in my car and sat there, unsure if I would actually make it home.

Sitting in my car in the quiet I was able to focus and get my breathing back to a steady pattern, I finally texted C, (too afraid to actually talk) and messaged my best friend about the overwhelming, stressful day I had had. I made it home, and took a nap.

Any yet my mother tried to get me to move back home… over my dead body.

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2 thoughts on “Ultimatums, Pot, and Panic Attacks.

  1. Oh my god! Take care of yourself hon. Passing out, etc will only make your mom more crazy. I’m glad you made it home ok. Stay strong ❤

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