Hospital, Day Service, Relapse.

So, as most of you probably know through my Facebook or Twitter, this past couple of months have been an insane whirlwind. I've been in the nut hut for a month, the general ward for a few days, and then completely left, unsupported.

Before going in to hospital, i was on an Intensive Outpatient Programme which was having some effect :

• I was managing to eat more regularly
• I was leaving the house more
• I went out for a birthday meal
• My laxatives had gone down by quite a bit.

The only problem was, all of these changes were not just happening and then having no other effect, they were having a counter-effect on other areas of my life:

• Despite having more 'regular' eating, i wasn't eating what i was meant to be so it was becoming more restrictive. Bingeing was becoming more and more rare but the restricting was kind of cancelling out any of the other 'progress'
• I was leaving the house more but the main focus in my head was to ensure i was getting more exercise and blahblah.
• I went out for the birthday meal, yes. The clinic was obsessed with me managing it and i did feel proud of myself. However, they don't know any of the compensatory behaviours that happened in the days before and those following. They weren't even interested in asking whether i kept the meal down or not which, call me daft if you like, i think is a pretty important thing to find out when treating a Bulimia patient.
• Although my laxatives had reduced, i was overcompensating for this with the restricting so again, i feel like this would cancel out a lot of that progress.
• Whilst at IOP, i was struggling with my meal plan and really wasnt being very successful in that part of the programme, despite finding the groups very helpful.

- - - - -

When i was in the hospital, i realised just how horrid things actually have been and how i have been kidding myself. Things weren't THAT great at all. I think i was kind of buzzin' off of not having the bingeing such a regular part of my life and that was helping me hide everything else. It wasn't even like it was a conscious decision to hide anything or be secretive because i feel like that part of my eating disorder is behind me - a far away memory or summat. Its just that it happened. Its like i was moving up in some ways, on the outside; the ways that everyone wanted to see. And then, behind the closed doors of the bathroom or of my flat, i was not doing great at all. However, nobody could see that part for how bad it was so i was being bombarded with support and praise (which was lovely, for a change). That just helped to paint over another eating disordered crack on the outside and just...i can't explain it. It turned in to a bit of a double life.

As part of the realisation, i decided the support i have been getting has not been working like it should. It's an amazing programme, dont get me wrong, and i have seen successes come from it and yaddayadda. However, it just was not working for me. It was 3 days a week- 9:30am to 4pm. It wasnt the night times. The 7 night times of being with myself. It wasn't the 4 days of being alone with my disorder; my comfort. It wasn't in my head the whole time or there for constant support, which, of course, led me back to the old faithful ed who is 'always there'. Lol. Im kidding, it wasn't so much that. Its just that it feels easier to fall in to the arms of my eating disorder than to try and work through the other stuff on my own. That's the reality of it.

I asked for Inpatient help.

We (me, Chantelle and MG) went into a big meeting on the ward round at the hospital (when i say big, we counted 17+ people in there!) and decided to ask for IP. The answer i got? 

'IP places are mainly reserved for people of a lower BMI.'

'Normally, people are DISCHARGED from hospital at your point'

NORMALLY, PEOPLE ARE DISCHARGED AT MY STAGE?! So, taking boxes upon boxes of laxatives a day is encouraged? Being unable to eat without knowing where and when i can take my next dose is normal? Passing out is normal? Feeling so utterly hopeless and alone with my ED is okay?

Right. So that's cool

Message i got from that meeting?

Lose weight and we will help you.

That's obviously not what they said and wont be what they meant but the ED side was rubbing the metaphorical hands with glee. Yay! Lets lose weight. Everything will be better a few pounds lighter.

Bull.

Absolute bullshit

So, despite saying i feel utterly alone with my eating disorder, i have been left on a '2-3 week break from the day service' which has so far lasted about 6 weeks or something. Thats only the start.

I have had one appointment at the ED service which didn't go well. They decided to change my keyworker to a man. Ive been fucking assaulted for fuck sake. I have NEVER worked with men in a therapy situation and don't wish to start now. I don't want to hear all this crap about doing it so that i am not avoiding. Its not about avoidance. When, apart from in therapy, is that going to come in useful? Its not like i avoid being in a room with a male at any other time in my life. Its nothing like that. Im not havin' it. Plus, they never even told me that this would be a possibility.

I had another appointment booked at the ED service but, due to problems with passing out, crapping myself in public (yes, glamourous) and general anxiety around being out and about, i cancelled. That was my fault for sure.

My CPN has been SO supportive. When i was first discharged from the general and psych ward, i was referred to the Crisis Team and my CPN encouraged me to ask to see their psychiatrist so that i could ask for IP through him. I agreed and kind of felt a bit hopeful. That was a right waste of time. Wanna know the big conclusion he came to?

'It seems to me that your main problem is your eating disorder'

Well, slap my arse and call me Sally! I never even realised! Pfft. He may as well have just said 'I can see that you have a nose' for all the good it did. He then said he would report his findings back to the ED team (lol-bet they loved that).

Anyway, now SuperCPN has arranged an appointment for us both to go to with the ED service to ask again and, if they refuse, to find out a reason. Honestly, i can't even explain how lovely my CPN has been but she is pretty powerless when it comes to IP places and referrals. The best she could probably do is get me an appointment with the devil shrink that works with her. I DO NOT WANT THAT. Plus, it would be about a six month wait so it's pretty stupid.

And seriously, the Devil Shrink is one of those that makes the ever so helpful observations like, 'So, you have gained some weight since i last saw you then?'. But its rhetorical. She has these idiot eyes that just stare at your arse and hips and she is basically A SHIT BUCKET. Fuck that. I am triggering myself enough at the minute, thanks.

So, i wanna round this off now because its turnin' in to a right ol' essay!

Where am i now?

Well, i have been playing a waiting game. As i said before, SuperCPN arranged an appointment for tomorrow but that has now been cancelled. Brilliant. Not just cancelled but they also can't rearrange until the end of May. I don't have an actual date yet.

I am bingeing almost daily. Nowhere near as bad as it was at the height of my bingeing before, most of the time, but still pretty bad.

My laxatives are out of control. I can't actually stop taking them. This is having an effect on my body in so many ways. I have been passing out (even though my bloods came back okay-weird) and crapping my pants. Ive had the most insane stomach pains and all the rest.

Ive been trying to get an appointment with my GP for over two weeks. I finally got one for tomorrow. Then, on Thursday, the surgery called me to say another dr wants to see me as well. He just wants to have a look at this lump if got to see about chopping the bitch off lol. Doctors appointments, it seems, are like buses. You wait weeks for one and then two come along at the same time!

My finances are fucked. I really wasn't in any position for things to get this bad but the addition of some bingeing coupled with about £40-£50 a week on laxatives is killing me. I have no money left by the end of the week and just...well, its bad. I have borrowed so much off my Dad for bills in this past couple of months which is so difficult for me. I never borrow money like that. I hate doing it because its important for me to be seen as being independant.

Oh i dont know

everything, is fucked.

i am not falling.

i am down

and i can't fucking work out how to get back up

especially when i have no professional support

all that keeps going round in my head is

'if none of the professionals care enough to talk to me, then i sure as hell don't fucking care about myself.'

but then, at the same time, i do care. I must do. Otherwise i wouldnt want this IP thing. Otherwise i wouldn't have gone to the appointment with the idiot dim crisis team shrink. 

I am a walking contradiction at the minute.

Whatever

NAILED IT.

If you know me, you know that i am not that much of a Topshop fan. I haven't bought anything from there in years and years. I think the last time was probably about two or three years ago and i think it was a pair of jeans, which have now been donated to my wonderful sister. Anyways, i am really excited about these things. And it IS my birthday this week so if i can't treat myself now then i don't know when i can! I am not a fan of the clothes, not because i don't like the style or the fashion direction or anything like that, i just really am not a fan of wearing shit that a million and one other people will be wearing but i have an absolute weakness for their jewellery - mainly their rings. I adore them. Any ring that is massive is a winner to me but, if you don't know already, i am a turquoise and deep green freak.

I can't wait for my weekly shopping trip with my best friend this week. It is literally my weekly highlight. It is just lovely to walk around with her and her little girl and to just distract. I think that, when i am in a deep Depression like this, distraction is the key. Whether i am painting my nails (see later in this post) eating (definetly a negative one at the minute), drawing, writing, tweeting, facebooking, doing my makeup or whatever, it just helps to force my mind to do something else. I don't like to admit this though because i don't like to give all of the countless CPNs and Mental Health Workers to have the satisfaction that they were right.

with the heart tips.

Tonight, for example, i spent hours doing my nails. Literally. I started off wanting to do a bit of a valentines day mix. I saw this nail post and wanted to give them a try. I wanted to have a go at doing some roses on my nails for the first time though and they just didn't mix very well together. As you can see, they just didn't look right. I would have felt silly to leave the house with these nails and decided to save the heart tips for another day.

 My nails are not actually going to be like this for that long anyway because i am going to be buying this beautiful new nail polish when i go shopping later in the week. I am SO excited. I want to think of a way to mix it up a little but we will have to wait and see what happens there :) I spotted it in-store on a model in a picture and knew instantly that it needed to be a part of my life, immediately!

The finished rose nails :)

 I ended up redoing the nails with the tips on and the finished result looked much better. I really like them and am excited to work on the roses and make them look even better next time :)

Part of the reason for doing something a little different today is that i was looking for a cutical stick and having some serious problems with locating the one i bought the other day. I had to go in to 'the box'. Its like an endless pile of odds and ends like an old nail extension set, endless lip balms, nail files, cuticle oils, cotton buds, tape and goodness knows what else.

Well, i went in there knowing i would be digging around for ages. I didn't find a cuticle stick but i found so many other things. To be precise, i found seven nail varnishes, five lipsticks, my old favourite Body Shop lipbalm, my glass nail file and a nail art brush that i thought i had lost. not only that though, I FOUND MY 219 brush! I thought i had lost it at my Mum and Dad's house and if this would have been the case, i would have never ever seen it ever again. My sister has a dog that likes to chew anything and everything in the world so WOO for finding that! I can't wait to use it tomorrow!

- - - 

It may strike you that this is a 'weird' post because i am not talking about feelings but, as i mentioned before, distraction is the word of the day. I can't cope with anything else. I don't want to talk about my (still very very low) mood and so this is my explanation.

I want to take my blog in a different direction. I am very much about expressing myself and about not feeling any shame about my mental health problems but i also want to stress how important it is for me to reduce the stigma surrounding mental illness.

 I am no and i will never again be ashamed of my mental health problems. I just feel that its important for me to be able to discuss whatever i want to discuss on this blog. If i want to talk rubbish and chat about my latest nail art or what book i might be reading, then this is what i am going to do. Just so you know, i am going to try and mix things up a little because i am boring myself so goodness knows what it must be like for all of you.

Its a case of this is me. All parts of me. Its important for people to be able to accept all parts of all people...simple.

Secrets.

I do this everytime. I hide, i laugh through the pain, make jokes through the tears, hide myself behind this facade of a smiley, happy freak that seems carefree. I make the conscious decision to do it, it doesn't always just happen. Sometimes i actually think, 'better start making jokes now. I don't want people to see how sad i am. Can't have me making them sad' and i let myself close in. I know deep down that every single time i do this, it will make things go further up shit creek and it will overturn my boat in the end until these people get the shock of their lives as they try to pull me out of the murky waters and save me from myself. Every fucking time.

Its like i can't help it. I can see what has happened, i can see where this could go and it all feels inevitable. Something feels like it has to happen before i can even dream of a time when i don't feel like this. I need to scare off some of these feelings or something. Its too intense. It's kinda like when you have filled up your bag with your shopping (good little metaphor here seeing as how this is all i seem to do at the minute) and you realise that as soon as you pick the bag up, the bottom is going to fall out. You need to take something out to make it more manageable...

This is how i feel. I feel like i am going to have to wait until the bottom falls out and i fall completely to pieces, smash into oblivion and take longer to fix back together or do something to alleviate the pressure. But i don't want to do anything. I just don't know how much worse i could feel. All of these feelings are smashing at the sides of my head. Every time i move it kinda hurts. I know exactly what is coming when i go to sleep at night - nightmares. And when i wake up in the morning, i lay there and i consider all of the possibilities for that day. Not who i could meet or where i could go but what extra lengths i could go to to rid myself of, well...me. What behaviours will i engage in today? What time will i take my normal pills of choice? If i have to eat, what time will be acceptable as a last resort? How can i rid myself of this stuff all over me the quickest. I sit and i work out BMIs, play with calories. I bend and stretch the possibilities. From bare minimum to absolute maximum. I stretch them until it feels like i have stretched my mind.

I try to change my train of thought. What else can i think about?

Hurting myself.

How would i do it? When would i do it? What would i do? WHY WHY WHY.

This hurts too much so i run to the shop, buy foods i have not allowed myself to eat in months, throw them down the hatch, keep on going. I spend maybe £15 on cheap, nasty ass foods that are going to end up...eurgh whatever...Then, oh god, what am i doing? Throw up? Throw the food away? Stop eating, stop. Where's the vinegar, throw it over everything. No. I can't keep this in the house, throw it away. Lay in bed. Cocoon myself in blankets, hide from myself. Hide from the possibilities. Lay there. Wait. What am i waiting for? Who am i waiting for? Surely the only person i can possibly be waiting for is myself. But i don't know where i am anymore.

I am under this mound of calories and weights and moods, depression, thoughts of hurting myself, of finishing...

Oh gosh i don't know

I just need to hold on until Tuesday, when i see this emergency psychiatrist. Just wait until Tuesday. Three days, just three more days...

Keep

Holding

On.

Oh god.

Invisibility

I am a contradiction, a walking contradiction. I work so hard for people not to notice me, to blend in to the background and not have people second glance me or remember my presence and now that i am sat here with this feeling of invisibility, i don't want it.

I am scared of myself today. I have been for the past week. I seem to have proper hit a mega major dip in the road. Like a proper mega dip. So much so that it feels like somebody has smacked me in the face with a shovel and then taken a big shit on my bleeding nose. I proper feel sad. I don't even know where it has come from and it has scared me.

I was sitting effing my ell today when my Dad called me. He told me what he had bought for my brother for kissmass and i don't know why but i had to grasp on to the annoyance and blow it out of proportion. I know what i have done- i didn't know what was making me so sad, so i needed to make something up. Who even cares what we get for Kissmass. I mean, i do know that kissmass presents are a big thing these days and i DID want to get loads and embrace my inner child where the more presents you get, the happier you will be. I know it doesn't work like that but i had managed to think of all the things i might get and i was getting well excited. I just want to feel a bit more visible. I want to feel a bit of love to be honest.

I have my sister and she shows me her love all the time but i just...i feel really lonely and like i don't matter. I know that this is all the Depression speaking because, truth be told i have a confession.

Ive stopped taking me meds. What a knob. it has been about three weeks. Eurgh. I have totally not taken any because i was 'happier' so i didn't need them no more.

DICKHEAD..,

I think today is proof that i most definetly DO need them badboiis. Fucking fuck sake.

Ah well. I guess i had to learn somehow...

eurgh. gosh im fed up

Deeply dippy.

I will be the first to admit that i think i have found the right balance of SSRI and emotional understanding that has enabled me to steady out my mood and bring it to a more even keel. However, this past two days has been just horrible. I have been in bed and just been...well, depressed to be honest.

I have been eating like a HORSE but that's not even the problem. Its the sadness. Now, i am quite good at being able to notice the difference between the thoughts that are disordered because of my mood and the ones that are fucked up because of my eating disorder. These thoughts are the mood ones and i am not as used to understanding them and sitting with them as i am with the self hating, eating disordered thoughts.

In my head, i think there is a very noticeable difference between both areas of my life and of my mental health.

I guess that my ED has been doing a fantastic job at hiding the mood problems recently because all i think about is how my legs are bigger or how ive eaten too much...

I don't even know what has been so different about this last couple of days. I mean, i have eaten more but i wouldn't call it a binge by my old standards. By the more recent standards, it does feel binge-ish and it is like i am try to satisfy an unquenchable, untouchable hunger. I am trying to feed something but i don't know what. There is nothing that has been bothering me more recently that i can even think of. Like, sometimes my disorder can be triggered more because i am anxious or because i am trying to please someone, feeling pressures or whatever...But in truth, i am actually relatively stead and (god forbid) kinda content at the minute. My family are being wonderful. I have the most amazing friends i could ever wish for. I have a sister that people would kill for. I have a roof over my head. I am paying my bills. I am...well, i am okay. I am. Honestly, i really am. This last two days has kind of knocked me for six though. Like, i want to just stand up and go 'you know what? fuck off. its only two days' but it is funny how two small days of FML can cloud a month of 'okay'.

Hmm...I hope that this little dip is just that; a little dip. I don't want to have a backward surge into the depression stuff. I am struggling to keep the eating disorder in check and to not hurt myself because of that but if the depression decides to nose dive then i, quite honestly, would be a bit scared...

- - 

This week has been a quiet one, like usual

Tomorrow is going to involve a disgustingly early morning. My alarm is set for half five. I plan on getting up, getting ready and going to meet my Chant, Lucie and Annabella. We are going to buy Kissmass presents (one of which shall be LKs :)) and then do some nice shopping in Medz and then...I AM LOOKING AFTER ANNABELLA. OMG. I am SO looking forward to it, i can't even tell you. I haven't looked after her for a couple of months now so that'll be wonderful. She loves me and i aint afraid to admit that to you. She fucking loves me and i love her more than she can ever know. I plan on taking her to Tiger Play which is a big jungle gym thing and burning off some energy (for me, not her...she never stops.) and just having fun and giggles.

I am really excited.

That has to lift my mood. If that doesn't then nothing will...

Bittersweet moments.

Yesterday, i had two appointments; the first of which was with my my new CBT therapist. I love the initial appointments. Normally, people hate them and really don't like reciting their seemingly scripted monologues to their therapist and recieving similar nods and that all too reminding straight lipped, upward glance.


Well, i don't tend to experience this that much anymore; or maybe i just sort of play in to it and believe that that straight lipped face is actually a face of recognition, of empathy and of understanding, instead of it being possible that it is just a well practised face for the awkward silence that is to follow the bomb you just dropped.


This therapist seemed to be more interested. She wanted to pick through the who what and whys of what i was saying and she kept stopped me to make sure she was clear on things or to maybe make an observation. It was really good. I could have kept on going all day!
Alas, it had to finish and we had just one hour. She knows it is difficult for me to leave the house sometimes so we have arranged it so that i see her on a Thursday which is the day where i nearly always leave the house. It just feels safer for the moment.
Straight after the appointment with her, i had an appointment with my nurse. We went through the behaviour monitoring sheet that i had actually done (shock, horror!) and just spoke about it really. That was helpful because it did help me to realise that (contrary to my prior beliefs/denial) there are some patterns in my behaviours and in my laxative use. Like, after a binge, i will make up for it and stuff. I don't know. It seems really obvious now but seeing it in front of me sort of brought it home.
We also had some words about the amount of laxatives and how it did shock me that it is more than i actually thought it was in the first place. We had a chat about my feelings around this and made a deal that i would only take x amount of laxatives and try my hardest not to go over. Hearing the amount coming from my lips seems okay. I don't feel shocked, i just find it normal because i am the one taking these every single day and stuff. But when she said 'Can we make a deal that you only take [x] laxatives a day and no more?', i wanted to lol. It wasn't funny but it just sounded like some ridiculous made up number, plucked from the air between us. It shocked me and i deal with shock with my 'awkward smile'. I did that and she asked me why and i just told her straight that its pathetic how bad this has got in those respects.
When you're spending the same amount (maybe more) of money on laxatives, as the average smoker spends on cigarettes a day, you really can't be denying you have fucked up and been fucked up by something pretty bad.


Ah well. That was the bitter part.


The sweet bit, however...


I like myself as a person. We were sat there and the CBT therapist was asking me about the effects of my eating disorder on my life and stuff. She wanted to know everything, which is easier said than done when you are living in the disorder and everything seems really normal. I find it kinda hard to work out where i start and the eating disorder stops. She asked about my self esteem and stuff and these exact words came from my mouth; 'I don't know if i would say i had low self esteem because, as much as i loathe everything about my body and how i look and all that shit, i actually know that i am a good person. I don't think i am a horrid person, and i used to think that.'


I like those words, i do.


I then went on to describe this book thing i used to have to do when i was first diagnosed as being 'a'. I used to have to take this book away with me every week and i would (at first) have to write five things a day that i had 'achieved'. My god, i used to struggle like a bitch. It was so hard. I couldn't think of anything i was doing as it being a positive. Within a couple of weeks, Amy (my old therapist) had worked out that there was absolutely no way i was going to manage five things a day. It went down to five a week, and then eventually 3 a week. I genuinely couldn't think of anything. I used to have to write ridiculous things like 'ate dinner' or something gay like that. Or i would go back with a page-full of writing, scribbled over in biro, over and over again. You couldn't tell what it ever said but you could see that there was no way i was comfortable with seeing or sharing these things. I don't know why this was...it's really weird.
I don't know when it exactly changed but i genuinely do see myself as being a nice person. Admittedly, i do still start sentences with 'you know i am not being big-headed or GOD FORBID - i'm not saying anything nice about myself but...' and then continue with whatever it is that i want to say. It is still like i have to apologise for what i am about to say and stuff but, you know what? I'm okay with that because that's not a bad thing. That is just my way of being able to say those things at the minute, nevermind think or write them down.


And so...the sweet sweet truth is that i actually like the person i am at the minute. I like the way i am. I hate that i don't have a job and that that is totally not a possibility at the moment but i like that i can make people laugh. I like how open i am about things. I like (although i am still shocked a lot of the time) that people seem to like me.


I just like it :)
I think this is part-therapy and part-medication.


Magic medication. Maybe i have found the right dosage. Maybe it has worked and has actually lifted me high enough to grab ahold of something and pull myself the little way that i needed to be able to see the lip of this well. I can more than see the frigging top of the well, i am pretty much balancing up there. I feel stabilised. Thats good, huh?
I don't think it is just one of those one-week things either.
Is it just me or do you find that there is a difference between Depression and the Depression that comes hand in hand with an eating disorder? My eating disorder can make me suicidal, lack motivation and concentration, isolate myself and shiz and it often does on a daily basis but i honestly only feel that around the eating disorder things. It is always there but then also, i can stand and say 'okay. I am a nice, good person and i do deserve my friends' and that is really a big sort of thing for me to say. I didn't use to think i deserve anything. And that's when i was hurting myself all the time. Trying to kill everything deformed on the outside, just because what was on the inside was so untouchable.


Oh. I don't even know...i am just rambling.


Basically, i am feeling stable and i like the person i am.


Sorry to say...;)

I don't wanna be in fucking control.

Today is my sister's birthday. She is 19. Nineteen years old. Shit the bed, age upsets me. I know, i know-here i go again with the 'FML, my life is so crap, someone kill me now' business but seriously, it depresses me. I hate how ten years feels like a drop in the ocean but then it feels like the longest time in the next second. I hate how much things change; how much people change. Its the times. I am in love with the memory of the past but, in reality, I didn't have a stonkingly fantastic childhood. I mean, people had it worse but i am pretty sure it was really a bit shit and miserable quite a bit of the time. But that is the problem with the way we remember things. There is a certain nostalgia in our memories. It is almost like we are protecting ourself from something, by cushioning the extent of our negative feelings and blowing our positives out of proportion.

For example, i remember playing some wicked good games with my sister and i honestly remember them fondly, as long as i don't think too hard. Gosh we used to play some games for hours- games like 'shop' and 'post office' and all the shit that you always play as a young girl. Well, i don't know if young girls these days (hahahahaha i am so old in my head. Honestly, i feel like a thirty-something!) play those games but back then, we all did. God i sound like my Nanan. Our games are quite sad if you were to psychoanalyse them. I like to think about these things. Always good for you to make yourself feel a little bit more mental, eh?! Yeah. Ours used to be playing Mummy and Daddys but we would be running away because our Mummy had taken an overdose and we were running from social services. I don't remember where Daddy was in our dreams but i know we used to use our dolls as our little brother/sister. We would run away and fantasise about how glamourous it would be to sleep rough and stuff. A psychologist would have a field day observing one of our dreams.

I look back and, most of all, i feel like a waste. I feel that i have wasted so many breaths that could have been given to someone else. Poor mental health has consumed me for as long as i can remember. I honestly remember having therapy at the age of...ooh, i think it was 10 or 11. That is a guess because it honestly blends. I just know that i had some therapy before any of the bad stuff even happened and that that is not normal. I literally remember times of my life by what therapist i was seeing.

I think back to the year 2000, for example, and it seems like yesterday. All of the panic about the Millennium Bug (I genuinely thought i was going to die. I also remember being really worried about my CyberPet). Then, i remember that i was seeing L. Fitzpatrick at the Children's Hospital. I remember her using teddy bears and us trying to dig deeper into how i was feeling by using the teddybears as a sort of messenger. I only remembered that part just now. Wow. Back then, i was just using my imagination. I thought we were just playing along with these bears when, in reality, these bears were sharing my secrets. It was like i was revealing everything in a whisper that only she could hear. I remember the relief i used to feel. I also remember the rackety lift we used to have to use. It was one of those with the criss-cross bar things that you slide across to stop you falling out. Fuck knows how they ever passed the health and safety people. I used to be terrified of the damn things. I remember they were decorating the main stairwell so we always had to take that fucking lift. I remember her recording a relaxation tape for me. It was about a secret garden and how it was my safe place. I was meant to put it on to try to relax me when i was really troubled and stuff. She had a lovely voice. I bet that that tape has been thrown away now. I wish i still had it because it would be amazing to listen to.

I don't really know what the point was of this blog or whether there even was a point. All i know is that i came to bed and i lay here, trying to get to sleep but all i could think about was my weight on the mattress. My body touching the sheets and how it has grown. Literally, in the past week, i have gained so much. I have binged on everything in sight and i don't know how to make it stop. It's scaring the crap out of me because i am not used to bingeing on things that aren't 'safe' these days and every single thing i have eaten has not been 'safe' at all. 

I feel scared to be seen.

Scared of myself and of my size. I am scared of other people seeing it seeing as how people have an unhealthy obsession with the bodies of those with eating disorders. I am scared because in my head, i am less of a person but then, if i externalise this and try to rationalise, i can't imagine ever saying these things to anybody else.

I wouldn't sit at that table and tell those teddies any of these things because i know that it is not how i think about other people but if those teddies wanted to know how i felt about myself, id say 'i hate myself and i don't understand how anybody around me can love me.'. I'd say, 'I know i am loved and i love so many people but i can't stand to be in this skin and to be seen by anybody anymore. I can't stand to even look at myself and the thought of somebody else seeing what i see makes me feel physically sick'.

God i am proper fucking my life to the max tonight.

The thing is though, i am not even 'depressed' at the minute. Honestly, my Depression is under control. I am taking my meds and i am being good. I am as okay as i can be in that area. I mean, i haven't felt stable in a long time. In fact, i don't think i can remember feeling stable in the past couple of years but this, right here, is the most stable i have felt in ages. It is just this damn eating thing that is bringing me down. It's different though. I don't feel all 'fukmalyf. i want to die. there is nothing to live for'. It is more of a 'fukmalyf. i can't keep going on like this but i can't see a way out.'

I wish i knew when it was going to stop so i knew how much longer i have to do this.

Eurgh. I wish it was not ultimately in my control because, contrary to popular belief, I DO NOT WANT TO BE IN CONTROL. I hate being in control. Fucking control gets on my tits. YOU be in control. You make my decisions. You make me better. You make this stop. You make it go away. Forever and ever.

I am scaring myself with this active social life i seem to have going on at the moment. It seems that i am actually leaving the house at weekends AND being okay with it. Well, as okay as i can be, considering! Still, i am feeling quite proud of myself for this weekend.

Stef came over on Friday and we got drunk. She had bought an open return because i wasn't sure how i would handle having the whole weekend in and shiz. We woke up on Saturday morning (by morning, i mean it was 3pm) and i didn't even think twice about asking her if she wanted to stay again.

And the main thing is, it wasn't even because of my head and how it started to feel like it was going to fall off my neck and an excursion to the train station would worsen this dread. No. I genuinely had a lovely time and wanted her to stay.

Bam. One for the team!

We had a lovely time. Yesterday was just spent being lazy. We both mutated into the vegetables we are and just mooched on the sofa before coming to bed at about 7pm, watching Gavin & Stacey and then deciding to bed down for the night.

When i woke up this morning, i felt sad she was leaving. She really is a cool chick, that Stef! If you don't know her, your life aint that great really! She's a total darrrll.

This afternoon, after i saw her on to the tram, i went for a few bits from Mozzas and then came home. I did a bit of tidying around but nothing major and ended up watching episode after episode of Come Dine With Me on the TV. I have one seriously mega addiction to food programmes at the minute. CDWM is not a fave as such but its always a good one when you can't decide what else to put on or when you have exhausted all five series' of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares.

Then, i was just...well, i was overtaken by that bloody binge-y feeling again. I don't need to go in to detail because there aint no point and it'll only end up making me feel sad. But yeah. I binged bigly and now, i am in bed with one serious food baby. In fact, i'd go as far as saying there is more than one baby in this badboii.

I did that typical thing i always do and just shovelled a load of crap in because it was quarter to midnight and 'after midnight, i am never eating again' haha. We all know that isn't going to be the case (and it shouldn't be either :)) but you know the twisted, distorted ED logic that decides that that is a bloody stonking idea. You know the logic i am talking about. The sort where one side of your brain is like 'what a load of fucking shit?!' but then the other side can't help but wonder and plan and scheme.

Silly thing.

This week is going to be a quiet one i think. I am SO skint, no jokes can even be made about this level of skintness. Money-wise, i think i have spent up until about Thursday so i have decided i will not leave the house until Thursday. Well, apart from Tuesday but i wont get much chance to spend anything then because i am getting a lift from my support worker to the burn clinic place for a quick check-up on my scars and then (i hope) she is bringing me back here. That should be safe money-wise. Plus, if i need a drink while we're out (let's be honest, i will) then she will pay because she gets her funding and shiz.

Hahaha. Bless the NHS. These are da perks of bein' poorly int' 'ed innit?!

FREE DIET COKE

But you can't go mad on it. Let's not take the piss. They'll stretch to one free drink (two if you're lucky) per appointment but after that, you're on your own, kiddah!

I am sure i have an appointment with my GP for some pillz this week but i can't remember when. I should probably give them a call about that at some point tomorrow. Otherwise, they'll get pissy about the pill situation.

Oooh. I have a question for those of you on anti-depressants; you know when you see your GP for a new prescription? How often do you see them?

I was seeing mine every two weeks but now that my mood has steadied out a bit, i have just (since last time) had it changed to monthly. My reason for asking is this- i want to know what the biggest gap there is between sessions. I understand that obviously this is Depression and it has to be monitored closely but i am just wondering whether some people go like, two months or something? I hate having to go back all the time, especially when there are no changes in my mood at the minute.

I might have a little chat with the GP next time, if i remember.

Doctors truly baffle me.

Today was the day of the big appointment with my CPN, Psychiatrist, ED nurse, the CBT therapist and...well, that was it. The dietician was meant to be going too but (gutted) she couldn't make it.

The appointment was okay. It wasn't horrible but it wasn't what i would call 'great'.

One part of it has annoyed me properly though.

We were talking about my isolation and stuffs and Dr Saunders asked about my friendships and who i see. Basically, the only regular contact i have is with Lucie and little Annabella. They want me to have more friendships but just friendships where i share a common interest with people but don't get too close to them. I started getting really pissed off because she wasn't half going on about it. I wasn't pissed off about making new friends but i was getting peeved because I felt like she was saying that the fact that i don't have many acquaintances wasn't normal or something. I let her say what she thought and then i replied.

'I actually don't understand what you mean. I feel that i made the conscious decision to only have true friends in my life because i don't actually like to have people i don't feel completely comfortable with in my life. I am open about everything from my eating disorder to my depression and, to be honest, i don't really want to hide anything and go around pretending things are okay when they aren't. I am not about to start going out for a cup of tea and giggling along with people when i have no interest in those sorts of relationships.'

Apparently, having these sorts of friends 'is human'. So, i am an alien lol. No. I know she didn't mean that but i don't think they are understanding that when your eating disorder is all that you are doing in your life, you can't just turn it off so you can go and do a fucking pottery class. Whilst in the class, i'd be thinking about the space i was taking up, the time i was wasting and so on...

I just don't understand why anybody would want that sort of relationship unless they were unhappy and trying to avoid something. I might be unhappy a lot of the time but i am very aware of the things that are going on in my head and it has been a fair while since i last lied to someone to put them off the scent that things are wrong. Know what i mean? Like, if somebody asks me why i don't work then they will get a blunt answer because i don't honestly feel any sort of shame about the reason i don't work. I don't feel any shame when it comes to those sorts of things.

If somebody wants to ask me why my earlier years are etched into my skin or why i have never had a sandwich in front of them, they will be told. I just don't seem to be able to hold off things like that. It is a part of everyday conversation because normalising a problem so abnormal is the only way i have been able to continue living a semi-normal life for this long.

I mean, the first time around, i probably did have acquaintances but i think that whenever someone is growing up, it is a natural thing to have people like that in your life because you are still getting to know people; whether it be school friends, colleagues or even some family members. Once i had got close enough to people, there would be no hiding the fact that i was losing weight and not eating anything. There was no hiding that i was self harming when i was turning up in bandages and when i was being called out of classes to see counsellors and stuff. I used to go out of my way to hide things from people around me but i don't have any intention of doing that anymore.

What is the point anyways? If i don't feel ashamed of things, why should i be friends with people but not too close?

It just seems like a foreign sort of concept.

Another thing that Dr. Saunders said was that i should not have a relationship with a therapist that feels like a friendship and that we should be careful of this happening. She doesn't even fucking know me! She has met me one other time and that was only a few weeks ago. She was simply listening to what Ellie (my CPN) was saying about my therapy ending with Fiona in February. Ellie said, 'I hope you don't mind me saying this, Charlene but it seems like since your therapy ended, you have lost some sort of hope. You don't seem to be as positive about the future and you seemed quite angry that you hadn't made more changes in the time you were there. Ever since it ended, you have lost a lot of weight and the laxative use has gone up drastically.'

This is a fair point, to Ellie's defence. I mean, things have been much worse since therapy finished with Fiona.

Dr Saunders was asking whether my laxative use used to be affected by the appointments. Like, if i had a good appointment, did i feel the need to take laxatives was diminished? I didn't but that was when there were days when i wouldn't take them at all. Now, i have realised that there are no days like that.

Today, i haven't taken any since 4am and i am seriously struggling. I am out for the day with Lucie tomorrow and i am not wanting to be seen in public. I had a binge tonight. It wasn't particularly binge-y as such but you know when you just consume an abnormal amount of calories for what you're used to? Like, it isn't like ive had six packs of biscuits and a few loaves of bread but i had the highest intake in a short amount of time that i have had in a couple of months so i am really struggling with all of that being in me when i don't have any way to get rid of it. Well, i do but i am trying not to. Whoa. Tangent.

Right, Chantelle has just come over for drinks and i am boring myself with this blog anyways. Plus...

SNAILS.

I don't know how much longer i can keep this up.

Since Thursday night, there has not been a gap of more than about eight hours where i haven't taken at least forty laxatives.

I haven't eaten today because i normally eat something at around this time but, not only that, i have nothing in the house. Normally, a salad would be a safe option for me at this time but right now, i don't even have any of that. There is literally nothing in the house. Well, there are a few Quorn slices, a bag of sprouts, a couple of Ryvitas and that is about it.

My stomach is really broken.

I was just about to leave the house and pop across to the shop for something small and quick. But no. My lax kicked in again and boom. This time there is not very much for them to work with so i am laid on the bed, writhing in pain, running backwards and forwards to the bathroom and moaning in agony. My stomach is jumping in sick, twisted circles. Its moving from the pain and agony of a thousand knives to the emptiness and extreme pain of nothingness. Only when you manage to take so many laxatives that they actually come back out whole do you realise that you're really up shit creek if you will excuse the pun. My stomach is literally just a pitted mess of pain.

I have been through at least seven large boxes of Dulcolax since Friday and i am unsure as to how much longer i am going to be able to last like this. I really do feel so far in over my head.

I am in so much physical pain and mental torment right now that i don't actually even have the energy to get out of bed half the time.

Depression has really kicked in and it has really hit me hard this time. Like...i don't know...it hurts.

I just want it to stop. I don't care how melodramatic i sound. It really hurts.

And in a puff of smoke, she was gone.

I should be sleeping as it is nearly half past four in the morning. Instead, i am sat in bed, wishing away my minutes, hours, life. I have turned into some sort of seventeen year old, teenage, emo, drama queen as of late - only i don't wear the clothes and i don't tend to have such a close relationship with the art of backcombing. I just tend to have adopted the same cliched mindset of the world not being worth living in when things never change and that there really is no point in my existence on this earth. You'd be right in thinking that this is a sad, pessimistic and pathetic way for me to be looking on life but i can't help it.
It seems that depression can surprise you. You think that you can know yourself and you trick yourself into comparing it to the time you were in hospital or the time you took an overdose. 'I don't feel as bad as then'. But then you have to come to the realisation that when this stupid illness is holding on tight enough, it will not let you realistically compare past symptoms with the symptoms that manifest themselves in the here and now. No. Instead you are left feeling that you have never felt, and nobody could ever feel, this bad. You recognise that you have been on the brink before and that you have jumped but you realise that although you are not physically throwing yourself over the cliff and even though you are not pouring the pills down your neck, you are still thinking about it. Sometimes, the thinking and the planning is worse than than the actual action. When you are acting on something, you can be bothered to change your current situation, even if it is to put a stop to your life. However, sometimes, you can go past suicidal and end up in 'i really don't care' land.

This is a lonely place to be. Black can't describe it because black is not dark enough. It can't even be described as some muythical, invisible place because it is too large and much too vast to ever be considered visible. It is nothing. And it is everything. It consumes your very soul and eats you alive, from the inside out and from the outside in. It hurts and yet it is numb.

This is not a feeling i am too familiar with because in the past, things have felt hopeless and i have hurt myself. Although i have had a few instances of self harm in the past couple of months, it feels inferior to the harm i am inflicting in other ways.

My ED (i don't even know what to call it anymore) is well and truly back in business. It is the only part of me that is making any sort of effort. I can tell you what you want to hear but i wont hear what it is that you are telling me. I don't see what you see and i don't want to. I am not making sense because i am literally battling every demon i have ever come across.

I am scared. And yet, i feel peaceful. It is like the sort of peace you get before you have had any sort of experience with bingeing. You have not experienced that out of control, completely mental state of shovelling food down your mouth quicker than you can get it in your hands and so the thought doesn't scare you as much. however, when you have seen and felt it, you know it is there. Always hiding and ready to jump out when you feel your least vulnerable. That is where i am right now. I am scared of what COULD happen but i am at peace with what is. The future is scaring the shit out of me. I cannot think further than a few days in front and i can't even entertain the thought of the trees losing their leaves and of Santa visiting because i can't see myself in those pictures. Not because i don't plan on being there but because i just don't even know who or what i am anymore.
It is like i don't actually exist. I am some sort of monster that is hiding in its hole. I pop out every now and then and people will see me and they will be shocked and then, as quick as i arrived, i will leave. I will skulk away, back to the hole in which i emerged and i will wait. I will wait until it feels like it is a little calmer and i will show myself, i will judge myself and you will judge me. You will assume that things are either better or worse, depending on my current situation, weightwise. Then, you will think that that shows you everything about me. You will believe that because i am bigger, i am better.

I'll let you into a little secret...just because things are changing physically, it doesn't mean that they haven't been doing so mentally for a very long time. It just makes you listen to me more intently. It makes you pay more attention which, ill be the first to admit, i used to love but now i want you to leave me alone. I warned that this was getting worse and it was obvious that something was going to end up happening.

Just watch me disappear.

I constantly moan and i don't ever tell you about the things in my life that actually keep me going. Sometimes, when you are in the grips of mental illness, you lose sight of the bigger picture and are purely concentrating on the here and now, the there and then. The larger picture scares you, it scares me. I am terrified of where i could end up and i am terrified of where i am now. I like to think about the things i have that are so important to me, but it is difficult when i am so low. I read things, and they touch my heart, pull on my strings and make me teary.

I know that being stuck in the here and now can be quite a problem, but we all need to think about the future at some point. Ignoring something, is never going to make it go away. And so, ignoring the future is just a stupid idea.
I look forward but then i have to cut off the vision, the imagination and the dreams. I don't dismiss them completely but looking forward really scares me. I am scared that this will never ever end. I am scared that Bulimia and Depression is all i am ever destined to be and that this is going to be the thing i am best at. I don't want to be known for my disorders, as such. I would love to look forward and to be able to imagine a time when i am in recovery, when i can be accepting of my body. I just...i am scared. I don't want this to be all that there is and all that i am.

The Groundhog Day Process

I hate when this happens. I hate it when depression suddenly sends you into a nosedive, almost into despair. I hate the sadness that consumes me at this point in time and the way that everything suddenly flips and turns so black. I loathe the time between one minute and the next. I hate how being asleep is so much less painful than being awake, even though my sleep is over-run with nightmares.

I have some of the nicest people i have ever had the pleasure of meeting, in my life. I have some of the best and most exciting things going on. However, i just cant help but feel like everything is so terribly hopeless. Everything hurts so much. But then, in the next breath, it hurts just because I hurt. I feel bad that i hurt when there is nothing in particular that has happened to trigger this sudden nosedive. Nothing has happened that should make me start thinking suicidal thoughts. Nothing has happened that should make me feel any of these feelings. Well, nothing recently.

To be honest, i am just fed up of the same monotonous process, day-in, day-out. I feel so shit about myself that i guess that IS going to have some sort of effect on my mood, obviously. I know for a fact that if the way i feel about myself was to change, it would be half of the battle already won. I just wish that i knew where i should start. Everything seems too engrained into routine, i dont know how to break the cycle, how to stop this vicious circle. It really is like after every single day, it starts again.

My life at the moment is comparable to Groundhog day. I am living each day over and over, like it is on a loop. The things i eat may change and the processes i use may change but in the end, everything else is the same. I see the same people, follow the same pattern, feel the same feelings. How do i break out of this shit?

Will i ever?

oh for goodness sake.