I try so hard to help other people, and then find it so hard to help myself sometimes. I try to be there for others -- give them a listening ear, maybe some gentle nudging or poking if I think it might be useful -- and then am extremely stubborn when anyone else tries to give me advice. I try not to hide from the truth about myself and my intentions and desires and fears, and yet I find myself continually, unconsciously, trying to go back to one old coping mechanism or another when I get stressed or sad or lonely or bored. There are still so many normal human emotions that I can't stand to be in for extended periods of time. And I wonder if that makes me really hypocritical, in trying to help other people; and then I wonder, if this is the definition for hypocritical -- trying to help others when one oneself isn't perfect -- whether every person on this planet isn't at least a little hypocritical.

Lately I've been compulsively overeating way too much. Started one day at school when I bought fast food for lunch -- and that just started a downward spiral, wherein I wanted all the tasty foods I could get my hands on all the time. The fact that we have barely anything in this house to eat that I actually want to eat doesn't help, as it has made me feel more justified in buying a lot of bad foods with my pocket money. Of course, on the other hand, it probably short-circuited a bout of COE last night that likely would have ended up in b/ping had we had anything else tasty in the house. Cause and effect circle each other, dance with hands on each other's waists and sparks flying between them, the danger and heat of the exchange flashing darkly in their eyes.

I wish all of it was as easy as telling myself to just stop. (Don't we all?) People see compulsive overeating as somehow different from a "full-blown" eating disorder, as more of a willpower thing and less of a full-blown disease that totally consumes a person. And, admittedly, it doesn't have quite the same physical effects as many of the other disorders. It takes a long time to die of compulsive overeating, if in fact you do die. For me, it has a little less to do with self-destruction and much more to do with comfort. Eating many sweet things at once, eating a lot of salt, it does, as studies have found, trigger that large output of serotonin. Like a chemical trigger for beating the blues. So is it any wonder that when I get tired, I want to overeat? After all, I always feel much more energized and able to carry on after eating too much. And is it any wonder that my largest desires to compulsively overeat happen when I get very sad or depressed? Biologically, my brain is actually being quite intelligent. It knows that the rush of sugar or salt (my personal tastes usually lead me more toward sugar) will make the mood rise, which will better restore equilibrium. And so it drives me to try and consume more and more and more.

Part of my problem is that I can't figure out what is the basis for the depletion of the neurotransmitters in the first place. Why do they get so low that my body tries to force me to restore them by eating a lot? Is it certain things that I do that make them worse and unbalance them -- for example, not sleeping enough? Or is it more related to faulty brain chemistry? Sometimes I really think I am still dysthymic, or maybe even cyclothymic. Because I do still have many times when I feel pretty good, or even quite happy, and then there are times when I am lethargic and down and completely unenthused for no really good reasons that I can figure out. So I often wonder if it's some cycle down into dysthymia that affects the sleep patterns, eating, etc, and these other dysfunctions in turn make me feel worse and worse and worse. But then I think that maybe I'm really stressed by school, which causes me to sleep unsoundly, which causes my body to try and eat more to compensate for its fatigue and allow me to keep going. Cause and effect, cause and effect. Which is which? How the heck can I ever know?

My problems are all so mild now, compared to what they used to be, that I simply do not feel validated in seeking any assistance whatsoever. If the lethargic moods are so mild that I can function around them, why would I bother going for help about them? If I cycle between being able to eat normally and then into a little bit of disordered behavior and then back again, where is the justification for seeing a dietician? If I feel that I've uncovered so many of my psychodynamic/unconscious issues already, and no therapist around here is likely to even do the right kind of therapy, let alone be completely psychologically sound themselves, or be as understanding and patient as I would need them to be, why would I even bother trying to go back to therapy? I honestly just can't see how any of these routes would help me at this point. I would basically go in being a whiner and an attention seeker. And I am NOT going to do that. I absolutely refuse to be the mental health equivalent of someone who goes to the doctor about a few sniffles. I am not going to be one of those spoiled, pampered brats who takes advantages of services just because she can. That's not my style, and I hope it never will be.

In the meantime, though, I get the not even remotely fun work of trying to do this myself. Which is the part that annoys me. But at the same time... this is what I have chosen to do. So I guess I'm just going to have to make it bloody work, aren't I?