It has been a quiet day. Most of my morning was spent down at the train tracks and rail yard getting lost in taking pictures of trains and doing what I so love. I so needed to get out of the house and that helped. Don't think the thought didn't cross my mind to jump aboard a slow freight and set out on a journey, though!
Nearby was Ferret's old homeless campsite and I walked into the woods to look. Faded beer cans still littered the ground and what was left of Ferret's tent sadly lay deflated and covered with leaves. I have often thought of going camping down here, but the cold keeps me chased inside. I used to be such a stalwart camper despite the elements. I've gotten soft these days.
Came home and read for hours about recovery. I am bulimic, alcoholic, and schizophrenic. There doesn't seem to be much hope for me alone and without rehab. I can't afford rehab though and my parents have washed their hands of my diseases. I feel hope though that I can recover. I already do better than I have in years and wish my family realized this. I still can't believe I've gone so long without a drink and I have some beer in the fridge. Three cans of ice beer that would be equivalent to drinking a six pack of regular beer. Yet, I don't drink it. And I was about as heavy as a drinker as you can get. Miracles happen every day I make it till bedtime sober.
One of the biggest helps with me dealing with my bulimia (which I never write about) is to eat small meals. That stuffed feeling of eating too much makes me want to purge. I eat my microwave meals in stages, digest some, and then eat some more.
The drinking? Oh well, I could write a book about that. I am scared shitless these days to drink as I fear I will get those anxiety attacks. The anxiety attacks were so bad that it scared the ever lovin' beJesus out of me. I have never felt so physically scared and miserable in all my life than when gripped in the throes of one of those attacks.