I had a 9am appointment with a psychiatrist today, to sort out my medication and such. I have only been given 7 pills because of the risk i am posing at the minute. I haven't been on weekly 'scripts for a really long time so that just shows how bad things are at the minute. I wont lie, i was kinda triggered by the appointment. I think it is just because my head is in such a bad place that it just twists everything to make it effect me as much as possible. The shrink basically made an assumption that because i am seeing a dietician, my eating is 'healthier' which is obviously because i am not at a low weight. Well, obvious to me. Argh. I am major fed up with this shit now.
Today, i left the appointment, bought a shit load of laxatives (that's just the normal though) and bought binge food. For some reason, today is time for carbs. Carbs are my absolute bingeing weakness. It's horrible.
I came home, ate loads and now i am sat here, fighting the urge to do something about it. =[
Everything is such a fight for me at the minute. It's a case of a fight to carry on. My god, how dramatic. I don't mean to sound like such a drama queen but its the only way to put it.
I am spending so much money on this bloody eating disorder. We're talking at least £30 a week on laxatives. In fact, its probably about £50. Then, there is the food. I buy loads, sometimes eat some of it and then throw the rest of it away. Its giving me panic, its making me purge, its just...its horrible. Everything is out of control, majorly. And i don't know how to get a handle on it.
I don't even know where to start because there is not anything that makes sense. When i eat less, i don't take less laxatives, its just a constant stream of self hatred and destruction every single day.
I was thinking about this year so far and it made me (insert relevant feeling here) to realise that there has been just four days out of the whole year where i have not taken laxatives. That is ridiculous.
I feel like something horrible happening is inevitable and it is scaring me. A lot.
Angel, I have been there.
ReplyDeleteThe craziness,the total loss of control, the fear...
I was at my sickest in 2002.
My life consisted of the four walls in my room.
The blades and matches I hurt myself with every few minutes, a bed, no food, and an obsession with exercise and laxatives.
I was an addict.
I was scared, so scared that I actually used behaviours more, to cope.
I was "in treatment" being seen and assessed an weighed and poked and prodded.
Each appointment sent me hurtling further down the hole of destruction.
And yes, each word or whatever, twisted to match my fucked up interpretation of the world.
It never gets better from there.
Only worse.
The only way it gets better is to work, starting with the basics, to let go, of all that threatens to kill you.
It may sound impossible now, but as someone who has been there, it is possible.
You may need more intense help and care.
Or different types of care according to the fluctuation of your needs.
But these needs vocalising.
Not stuffed down, starved, or flushed out.
"I speak because I can."
xxxxx