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

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.

Reflection.

Right now, do i actually want to change?

It sounds like a stupid question when you read back through my blog and see how bloody pathetically low i am the majority of the time and how much of a fucked up life i appear to be living at the moment but the more i think about it, the less of a stupid question it seems.

I had an appointment with my knew dietician today. It went okay, but like i said in my last blog, i was down as shittery and just really didn't want to be out of the house or anything. I went though and i suppose i should give myself a pat on the back for that...

It wasn't what i would call 'helpful', we just spoke about what my intake is, she wanted to ask weight questions but i refused to answer them properly. I fucking hate weighty numbers. 'What's your lowest weight?', 'What's your current weight?', 'What is your 'perfect weight'?' blahblahblah. Stupid questions.

I could have guessed that my head was going to be a dick to me and sure enough, i was right! Everything she said was immediately twisted and distorted to make me feel as bad about myself as physically possible. I don't think she was actually saying anything wrong and it was almost like i could see it being twisted and manipulated as if to affirm that how i am feeling is the exact truth. At one point, she was asking about when i went through my 'better' patch. I mentioned that my weight did remain quite stable and stuff and she latched on to that to try to see whether i could use that as motivation to change things because if i was relatively stable then, surely i would be stable now... I just replied with, 'yes. but i was a higher weight then.' She simply said 'were you really?' And immediately the words were floating in front of my face, being stretched and underlined and insert imaginary eyebrow lifts and just generally being manipulated to within an inch of their lives. Its like a small part of my head can see it happening but the rest of me is so obsessed that its kinda...i can't explain it. I can see it happening and i can write it like this but even whilst typing my head is being all 'don't be stupid. you know that's what she meant' and so on and so forth.

Then, later in the appointment, she asked something that has kinda confused me today.

'Well, you obviously want to change and that's obvious because you're coming to see us here...'

I am confused.

Do i want to change? Yes.

Do i feel like i am in a position to make changes right now? No.

Do i need to? Hmm...

I know that the way i am existing right now is extreme in that the laxatives and stuff are mental but then the ED steps in and is like, 'well, you're obviously not thin' and then my mind begins this war with itself. Its like i can't contemplate change because the physical manifestations don't correlate with the behaviours.

I have to make a decision about my CBT and i feel pressured. Everybody knows what's going on with me at the moment and it's making me feel like by me not commiting to this therapy, i am letting people down and disappointing them. But then what do i do? Do i do the therapy even though i know i wont commit fully or do i disappoint people and try my best to explain i am not ready? I am so torn.

Between my head and my family/friends. Between my eating disorder and what little it feels like is left of 'me'.

I don't know what to do.

And of course, because i am finding this decision so hard, i am attempting to mask these feelings with my behaviours.

Ever since Friday especially, i have been struggling. Three days of bingeing and yeah...other shiz that i am not going to go in to.

I am just struggling, okay. And by admitting this to the blogosphere, maybe i will be able to admit it to somebody else...

I am scared

and struggling, okay?!

And that's okay. it is okay. I am allowed to struggle, i know i am.

I just need others to see it that way too and to try to understand that i don't think i can do this right now...

and that i am sorry.

Listen up, kids. Take your pillzzz.

Why i stopped taking my pills, i will never know. I don't understand my logic, ever. 'Maybe the pills are making me so fat?!'. Yes, Lil-Dawg, that will be it. Its not like the pills are the only thing keeping you together.

I stopped taking them a while back and i have been trying to get back on them. As well as me vomming every two fucking minutes from taking too many laxatives (i think that is the reason), i am vomming whenever i take those. So now i have to play games with my eating disorder.

I have a choice. Do i want to take the pills and risk vomiting or do i want to take the laxatives? I can't take both because then i vomit the laxatives and that's just daft. Eurgh. its driving me mental because i truly do want to get back on the pills and sort out my mood. I don't know what the hell to do.

I have an appointment with Andrea tomorrow. Its only a half hour one. She will want to do my BP and maybe weigh me. She likes to not warn me about weigh-ins now, i think, because i have been cancelling appointments whenever i have been due to be weighed. Naughty girl.

I am not nervous. She will want to know about my blood results (came back as 'no further action') and be interested to hear about my ECG. I have not had it done. I don't want it doing. FUCK OFF. I am not having an ECG in that place, they can bollocks. Arrange me an appointment or suck my balls.

So, in other news, i am a happy puppy.

I ordered a new powder blush from Mac last week and, when it arrived, they had sent me the wrong colour (fukmalyf). I was just going to go and take the colour in to the Mac store tomorrow and exchange it but i decided to send a quick email to Mac to see if they could get hold of the original blusher for me instead. I expected to have to send back the one they sent me in error (Sur) and then for them to resend me the original order (Gana).

I checked my emails this evening and saw that this lovely lady had replied to my email to tell me that she had ordered Gana to be sent to her desk ASAP and that she was going to send it out to me, free of charge and i could keep Sur with compliments from them.

That has got to be the best customer service i have ever recieved.

I'm so happy because gana sold out one hour after i bought it so I would not have been able to buy it at all. gosh!

That put me in a good mood for a start.

I went to the shops and spent way too much money on munchies like sweets and chocolate. I can deal with eating sweets but chocolate freaks me out a bit. Ah well.

I slept most of the day away because i didn't sleep last night. Finally dropped off at about 7am.

Yeah, so when i got back from the shop, i got a phone call. I contacted someone about getting Sky TV last week bu decided not to sign up for it because i needed the payments to be due out around the middle of the month so i didn't die (lol). Anyways, the Sky people called me again today to see where i was with my decision. I had sweeties in my hand and had just recieved the email from Mac so was overly lovely.

I signed up right there and then.

I wont notice the pennies gone now but wait until mid-February haha.

However, i will have kids tv to keep me happy =]

Nice.

Dieting

It seems like the world and it's brother is on a diet at the minute. I can't go five minutes without seeing some sort of new diet pill, fitness video or some sort of sale on exercise equipment. I wont lie to you, its triggering the shit out of me. I am trying to be level-headed and not let it push things further down but its really hard.

This got me thinking.

How do people 'in recovery' from eating disorders stave off the temptation that comes with this time of the year. If you're lucky enough to have managed to keep yourself relatively 'together' over Christmas, you have to be super super strong to fight off those thoughts over new year, don't you? How do you do it?

It's really scary to think that the world normalises dieting so fucking much. I mean, why do they have to assume that everyone needs to lose weight. I understand that there are shit loads of people that are classified as being 'obese'. For example, In 2008, almost a quarter of adults (24% of men and 25% of women aged 16 or over) in England were classified as obese (BMI 30kg/m2 or over), according to some recent NHS statistics. That's not a majority so why are we treat like it is?

I agree with improving self awareness and encouraging healthy eating but, in a society that normalises dieting to such a disgusting level, it makes me feel sick that so many boys and girls are being diagnosed with eating disorders. I am, in no way, saying that the media is wholly responsible for the rising numbers of eating disorders but they do play a large part. You ask any woman you know (and yes, i know boys have problems too...) and she will have been on a diet. The statistics i have seen in relation to teenagers that have tried laxatives, made themselves vomit or been on a diet are scary.

My friend has a little girl and it terrifies me that she is growing up in a society that normalises this so much.

A friend of mine pointed out the other day that dieting et al have damaged her and caused her so many more problems than alcohol and cigarettes and raised a good question as to why adverts for cigarettes are banned...

Adverts for alcohol are regulated and have to come along with a 'drink aware' logo in the corner. Same with gambling. There should at least be some sort of regulatory board...

Hmm...just something that has really got my goat this past couple of weeks. I keep wanting to cry because wherever i look, i can't get away from it and it scares me. This, coupled with my 'not wanting to be seen by anybody' syndrome i have at the minute is proving to be very distressing.

I am getting better with going out though. However, i just seem to walk around with my head down all the time. I panic and constantly think that people are talking about me, saying horrible things, being horrid in general. I seem to think that everyone hates me. I know they don't when i feel more levelled (normally at times when i am at home) but when i am out, i just can't shake the feeling.

I have started having panic attacks too. Fun times.

I need to go and get an ECG done this week but i am too scared. I went on Thursday morning, thinking it would be just like any normal hospital waiting room. i knew it would be busy and i knew it would be a while but i never expected just how busy it was going to be. I walked in through the doors and stood in the queue. I managed about a minute and i went dizzy and thought i was going to pass out. I was shaking and close to tears. My heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest and i was really scared. All i can remember is the smell and the stares. It felt like everybody was thinking horrible things about me. It felt like...just horrible. And the smell was just as bad. I noticed it the minute i walked through the door. I felt like i could taste what people had had for their breakfast. It was probably a crappy smell of BO or something or just the smell that comes along when you have a room of people, breathing their disgusting hot air from their mouths and perspiring and just...eurgh. However, because i couldn't get the breakfast thought out of my head, no amount of deep breathing or sitting down was going to shake off this feeling.

I have this thing about smells at the minute. I used to have it back in the olden days when i was 'A' but these days it's even worse. I am scared that if i smell something, then i have eaten the calories. Written down its bloody stupid but when you have a thought like that in your head and you are so scared, you can't help but gayly manage to rationalise it. its stupid, i know.

So anyways, once the tunnel vision set in (thats the worst part of the panic attack for me because my eyes start darting and i get even more panicked), i decided i had to leave.

I need to get the ECG though and so...yeah...i don't know what to do. All i know is that i can't go there alone and sit in that breakfast stinking room with those sweaty ill people. I know i am 'ill' as well but my illness is not going to infect you. I am not going to fill you up with my germy badness. I just, eurgh.

I thought that by writing for a bit i would be able to forget all the anxieties and kinda sort my head out a bit but it has not worked.

I have an appointment with my nurse on Thursday and i think i am just going to tell her that i can't go. They're going to have to find a way to get me an appointment or something because i can't do it. it wouldn't be as bad if they had bloody windows or something but they have NOTHING.

Bollocks to it. I was meant to be asking Kim to take me tomorrow but i don't think i dare.

Ah well.

So the plan for this week:

Monday: Appointment with Kim (support worker)

Tuesday: Home

Wednesday: Home

Thursday: Appointment with Andrea (ED nurse)

Friday: Home in the day and then going to Stef's for the weekend. We are going to be pretty smashed all weekend so its going to be bloody amazing, not that i will remember any of it :)

I am bored out of my mind tonight. Need to get me a hobby. I am considering taking up running again but i am lazy as fuck. I wish i could do exercise just by thinking lol.

with Liv last night. Dammit i missed her!

The details of my Christmas

I went over to my Mum and Dad's house on Christmas Eve and practically passed out because i was so tired. I was literally in bed and asleep by half past eight.

Christmas morning came and i got on everybody's tits because i took a couple of hours to do my makeup. Haha. I started getting ready before they even got up and all i heard for the last half an hour was 'are you nearly done now, sweetheart?'. They didn't get stressy with me though so that was nice.

When we went downstairs, we were greeted by rather a large amount of presents - it was wonderful. I don't do the whole Jesus thing and don't buy in to the idea of church but my gosh i believe in presents. Materialistic? Yes. Bovvered?

Presentssssss

We spent a good 45 minutes opening presents and giving kisses and stuff.

Chantelle and I shared a moment and got a bit teary from telling eachother of our love. And this was before the drinks.

My darling sister sat in Mum and Dad's room :)

Dinner was erm...well, i don't want to dwell on that too much because christmas dinner in a house where there is someone with an eating disorder that is very much in control of them is never going to be shits and giggles. But, well...in true US style, we managed to take the piss instead of dwelling on how sad stuff was. There were a few tears over the gravy (and i am not even joking) but then that was fine. I stuck with having boiled veggies and gravy. Nothing more and nothing less. There was a massive pile on my plate and i ate it all up like a good little girl. It was so yummy.

The only point where i felt really really sad was when Mum was like 'I didn't realise how bad it had got until today'. That was not nice. But hey...que sera, sera.

Yesterday was one seriously messy messy day. I started drinking at 2 and got absolutely wrecked from one drink. I hadn't eaten much so it went straight to my head. Passionfruit Daiquiris are the work of the devil. SO YUM though.

I don't remember getting home and i have absolutely no idea how the hell we even got home.

All i know is that i was way too drunk

Today was mostly spent in Meadowhall which took mental to a whole new level. Not even joking, it was absolutely fecking rammed. I wanted to scream. But i didn't because it was fun. It started to calm down at about four and then it was okay, thank heavens.

I bought a new eyeliner and five new eyeshadows plus a little gift for a friend of mine whos in hospital. I shall have to send that soon but i don't know when i am next going to be going to a post office. Probably Wednesday.

my christmas nails

Speaking of Wednesday, LK is coming up.

O

M

F

G

Its been a lifetime since i last saw her. SEPTEMBER is about three years and twelveteen months away.

Wooop

Eurgh. I hate that food has to make me so nervous though

Last time was a bit sad and i want to do whatever i can to make it okay but, truth be told, i am scared about that.

Bloody good job i love her and that she makes up for it :)

Awhh. Bless. I am excited :D

wanting

My EDNOS is 19 years old. It started with Anorexia when I was fifteen. Then I progressed to Bulimia, otherwise known to some as a failed anorexic. You do the maths. I’m too ashamed to get my calculator out.

My weight fluctuates between slightly overweight, slightly underweight and somewhere in between. Which proves that my methods of losing weight aren’t that efficient, but this is not about logic. This is not about doing the right things like eating less or exercising more. This is not about being sensible or healthy or a shining example of mental health. This is not Jamie Oliver and his organic pig testicles.

This is not about looking good on the beach or wanting to be a supermodel. This is not about wanting the cute guy in the coffee shop to beg for your telephone number. This is not about sliding a pair of skinny jeans over your hipbones and laughing all the way to the check out till.

This is not about wanting attention until complete strangers force feed you Black Forest Gateau and siphon double cream into your skinny latte. It is not about deliberately pissing off the nurses by hiding your peas under your fork and stashing butter in the bed pans. It is not about starving for all the children in Africa. It is not about reading the magazines and pining for the Body Mass Index of Paris Hilton’s pet Chihuahua. This is not a conspiracy created by the Patriarchal system to oppress women.

This is about having the self-esteem of a gnat’s arse. This is the polite way of committing suicide. This is about having no life because it’s impossible to order a bowl of dry cereal in a restaurant and ask them to hold the raisins. This is about weighing pasta, cereal, raisins and anything that passes your lips, including toothpaste. This is about secrets and lies and shame. This is about not wanting to admit that you need to eat. That you deserve to live.

This is about being scared. This is about being terrified. Of everything.

This is about control. This is about sex. This is about putting relationships on hold until your thighs don’t meet in the middle and by then you have no libido anyway. This is about hiding under layers of clothing that are mostly black. This is about “Please don’t look at me and cover all the mirrors with black crepe.” This is about avoiding the camera, even at your sister’s wedding. This is about intense self hatred.

This is about needing so much that you can’t stand it. This is about having emotions that bubble up and spill out all over the carpet and stink up the whole house. This is about having too many choices and too much pressure and isn’t it easier just to keep it simple and obsess about the amount of calories in a small cantaloupe? Instead of making big scary choices that might crush you to a pulp?

This is about wanting to be safe. This is about wanting to curl up in a nutshell like Thumbelina and ignore the big bad world that’s too noisy and dangerous and can’t be trusted. This is about not trusting anyone and relying on food (or lack of) to give you an all enveloping comfort blanket when the medication bloats you up like a corpse in a river.

This is about really crappy coping methods. This is about making a choice that will quite possibly kill you. This is about failed relationships, waiting lists, devastated families, waiting lists, becoming vegetarian, becoming vegan, becoming lactose intolerant, developing a wheat allergy and more waiting lists. This is about infertility, rotten teeth, and hollow bones. This is about cardiac arrest in a shopping centre. This is about being sick. This is about not being sick enough. This is about finally being sick enough for a bed in a unit until you drop down dead and you get a mention in the local paper for being such a model student.

This is not about food

(found on this tumblr: http://-shine-a-light-.tumblr.com/

I was doing my normal stalking on Tumblr just a few minutes ago and i stumbled upon something i really...well, let's just say it took me by surprise. At first, i saw that stupid first part and thought, 'oh for god sake. not another one', half expecting to click the link and see yet another one of those pro-ed related posts where there are a load of 'thin commandments' or something along those lines.
However, upon clicking, what i found was quite different. It sort of surprised me like a bullet in the head. I read it. I re-read it and then i read it again, not quite believing what i just read.
I know that it might all be cliche and that we will have all heard snippets of things like this before and thought 'yeah yeah, course i feel like that. don't we all. big wow.' but i honestly do feel like i have been wowed; like someone has just come along and rammed something in to my stomach and pushed the wind right out of me, blasted up from my oesophagus and sent it spewing out of my throat. I feel like i need to gasp for breath.
I mean, come on...we all know i have been in this game long enough to know that its not all about food and its not all about weight. We all know that 'its not about food, its about feelings' but sometimes, for one small piece of writing to 'get you' like this...it sort of brings things back in to perspective.


My life at the moment is literally a constant pattern of one disordered habit followed by another. I eat in a structured way, beat myself up afterwards, make plans to change it, take a bucket load of laxatives, feel bad, eat in a structured way...


It is like once this spin cycle is over, i just rinse and repeat it...I don't get anywhere, i don't move forward but it feels like that is my goal. It feels like by my doing this and by me repeating these behaviours, one day it will change. That's what i keep telling myself; what i keep telling my disorder. And i sometimes even find myself saying that i will be able to change things when i want to.
I want to fucking change things now but i aint doing shit about it.


I guess i don't want to.
I want to want it. I don't know...it sounds like its all much of a muchness but i guess you really do have to want change enough. And i guess i don't. Eurgh. God thats depressing...
Sorry.

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...

Revelations.

I have only gone and come to a realisation!

During one of my many deep-thinking sessions in the shower, i realised that i have been realising things recently. Bare with me on this one.

Right, so you know how a lot of us are guilty of blaming our past and our parents, upbringing and all that jazz on how we are today? Well, i am guilty of that. I have blamed my Mum and Dad for a long time because my childhood was very far from normal, my Mum and Dad have been ill for a long time and blah blah. I feel like i was never bound to go to uni or to have any sort of life that i would consider to be valuable.

I don't want this to be my way of thinking anymore. Just reading that back makes me think, 'god. what a twat'. I mean, since when do we all have to be by-products of our surroundings. Have i been using my past, my family, illness, education and everything as some sort of excuse as to why i am so fucking fucked up? In short, yes. Yes, i have.

I mean, when you do have illnesses like the ones i have, it'd be bizarre if they didn't have some sort of effect on your wellbeing and motivation and all that jazz but it isn't right to blame the illnesses completely. I mean, when i was doing my A levels, i was fucked up. And i mean, i wasn't as bad as i am now, i don't think, but i was fucked. I managed to do the AS levels and i passed but it was nothing to write home about. I cried when i got the results because those badboiis weren't going to take me very far in life. The thing is, i genuinely did try. Well, not in Psychology but that was a mistake. I wish i had never done that course because i hated it with an absolute passion. However, in my English Language, i genuinely did L-O-V-E it. It was one of those lessons i used to look forward to going to because i was really interested in finding out how we learn language and in analysing different writing styles and stuff. I used to love it and it used to give me such a sense of pride and i just enjoyed it so much. I used to get good grades in my coursework and it was obvious i really did try.

I was going through a very low mood part but i would say my ED was starting to become a bit more manageable. I only say this because i remember having a few 'meals' in the Refectory at college; something which i wouldn't even entertain the thought of doing before and something i couldn't ever imagine doing right now. I remember i used to have some little 'treats' and i would eat them in front of people and everything. I vividly remember the time when i was addicted to Snickers chocolate bars. I used to love them so much and would get them at break times. That would be the drill. Diet Coke, Snickers bar and a cigarette, or ten.

At the start of my A2s, i was starting to get bad again. It was more in my mood, i spose. I don't know, im finding it hard to remember the old ED stuff at the minute because it seems so small and insignificant compared to what is going on for me at the minute. Everything is just so sad and low, i have never been this low and deep in my ED (head-wise), Hmm. Maybe i have but when we are IN the moment, we can't remember being inside any other rut or experiencing other pains because the pains we feel now are too great. Hmm.

Anywho, i dropped out of college and, since then, all i have done is a counselling course and sign language. The sign language was a proper mega struggle. My first year took two years to complete because i was too messed up but i didn't give up. I am proud of that actually. I am, however, really pissed off because of how it ended. I failed one module and that means i failed the whole year. I couldn't face going back to do another year when my body crap is so bad so i had to pack it in. Who knows, maybe i will go back next year. i am not sure.

However, i have decided that i think i am going to go back to college for some 'proper' stuff. I can't be pissing about not doing anything with my life or i may as well just kill myself now. There's not much point in just surviving, i really want to LIVE. I am sad all the time. I think a lot of that has to do with the situation i am in. I am in a rut at the minute and i really really want to get out of it and just...feel like there is actually a point in me being here because, being honest with you, i am feeling like if this is how i am then there is not much point in me even living. Shit. I don't mean it like that. I just mean that this is no way to live and i don't want to look back in another ten years and think, 'gosh. When i was 21, it was not 'too late' but now it is' and i don't want to live the rest of my life like that. Its just not really a very nice way to exist, is it?!

So, i need to make plans but i literally have no idea how anything works.

I would LOVE to be able to go to uni and, although i am still very much in a 'yeah right. don't be such a dick' place, i am honestly trying to change it to a 'why not?' sort of mindset. Its difficult though because i honestly am really FML in an ed place but, from a mood standpoint, i am in an okay point. I think that if i was to subtract the eating disorder from my life right now, i would be okay, as long as i kept taking my meds and stuff. Hmm...

So yes, these are my thoughts on the whole 'life' thing at the minute. I keep thinking about it all the time. I don't know why but i am really reflective at the moment.

I am going to do me some research and try my very hardest to make some concrete plans and to know what the hell i am doing. Because like, at school, when people were planning their uni choices and stuff, i was busy with my head down the toilet or standing on some scales somewhere, i don't know very much about like...UCAS or any of that shit.

Right, i'll level with you:

I have ZERO clue when it comes to applying to unis

I don't know anything about credits and all that stuff

I don't understand even what i want to do. I am pretty sure i would like to do an access course to social work but then i don't know how that works? What is an access course? How would it help me? All that shit.

I've been to Connexions and places like that before but i struggle because i feel so ashamed about this situation i am in and that i have never had a proper job and everything.

Seriously, if they were to write a 'university for dummies' book, i even think that that would be too advanced haha

I guess i just need to hold on to hope that things can and will change because, without hope, there aint naffin else lol. I also need to stop waiting for change to find me and get off my arse and go and fucking look for it myself.

I want a purpose. I just want, like i said, something to live for; to feel like, if i was to suddenly disappear, i would be missed and my absence would be felt.

i also need my cat to fuck off and leave me alone. But that's another story for another day :)

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...;)

Shush yo mouf. (probably triggering, lets be honest)

My head is really full. This is a blog-worthy occurrence in itself because i am really rather an empty-headed buffoon. Seriously though, my head feels like it is about to explode and leave a really bloody, blobby mess all over the walls. My stomach is flipping and i feel like i could be sick. Thoughts are swirling around in my head and i have been trying to counterattack them by throwing some cliche shit back but the cliche shit has been sucked up in the tornado that is my eating disorder and now everything is just spinning around and around. Like, you know when you have thought about an upcoming event for so long that you have blown it completely out of proportion? You can't imagine how something so small can now be so big and so capable of controlling your very now and your very future. This seemingly huge appointment can now be the one thing standing in between you and the bigger plan; between you and your future.

In short, i am scared to even leave the house this week. I had just over a week of full-on bingeing. It all started after my CPA review thing and it just wouldn't stop. I just couldn't stop throwing food into my gut and i felt completely unrestrained. I felt like, no matter what i did, i was destined to have more food and kept thinking the 'its okay because after this, i wont eat again' thing. But come on people, we all know that that is never going to work. We are never going to be able to reason with our disorders, not effectively because, in reality, it is not us that is doing the reasoning. It is impossible to reason with a disorder that is already the one doing the reasoning. Does that make sense?

Its like stealing from one negative side, so hellbent on destruction and feeding it to another side that has no other aim than to eat the feelings that you were trying to starve out in the first place.

I feel sad.

That week or week and a half has fucked me over, weight-wise. Its given me a monstrous gain, monstrous in actual numbers, not just in my head. This weekend has been okay. I have been destructive and destructive is better to me right now. Allow me to destruct. I don't find these sorts of behaviours half as distressing as the ones where i binge. Bingeing scares the crap out of me these days, especially such prolonged episodes. I genuinely felt like it would never end. I would feel sad about what was going on but i would just go back to the shop and spend another 20 quid i don't and didn't have in the first place. Electric bill? What electric bill? I would much rather have bought food than had electricity. That's fo sho.

Now i am left to clear up the aftermath and it is making me want to lock myself away from the rest of the world and just wallow. I want to wallow and repair the damage but, come on now, that's fucking stupid. This is not damage but it is. It is to me.

Its making me head feel like kabooming, see.

This week i have two appointments. I have one on Wednesday afternoon and another on Thursday morning. Plus, i have to fit in seeing my bff. I hate that i have to 'fit' that in but, right now, this  is what it feels like. I cannot leave the house for more than two days a week, no chance. Thing is, i would have been okay if i had been able to lax inbetween the Wednesday and Thursday appointments and then was to see my friend on Thursday. She can't do Thursday so i am going to be seeing her at some point on Wednesday instead. How am i going to make this manageable?

That is even assuming that i can get myself to go.

How can i reason with my ED-head and make it realise that i am allowed to go to appointments, despite this weight gain? How am i allowed the help? How am i worth the help?

How can i make myself believe that i do still have an ED when i have gained this weight?

I mean, i know i do still have one but it surely can't be that bad now, can it?

ARGHHHHH

MY HEAD IS GOING TO BOMMMMMMMB

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.

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.

"One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. 'Which road do I take?' she asked. 'Where do you want to go?' was his response. 'I don't know', Alice answered. 'Then', said the cat, 'it doesn't matter.'"

Today, i swear i have seen my bathroom door more than i have seen anything else.

All i have done is run back and forth. I shat myself twice, cried once and went so dizzy on the way to the toilet that i fell in to the door. I had to sit down in the shower because i went dizzy as fuck and i have a funny feeling something might be slightly wrong. Not because of all of the above but because of something else.

I don't want to go in to it too much because i am thinking i am probably over-exaggerating things in my head and so i am going to see if it calms down before i say anything. Too many people read this for me to just whack out something and expect people not to worry about me and about the effects that this life is having on me right now.

Bloodyhell, i was thinking back earlier. I was only thinking back as far as the beginning of the year. I wasn't 'well' in the way that i WAS taking laxatives and i was bingeing on a daily basis and puking but, in my head, i would say i was healthier than i am now.

I remember New Year really well because i travelled down to spend a week with a really close friend. It was the first time we had met and so obviously it was all really exciting. Things were far from normal in that i was still very aware of myself and of hiding my body from everyone but, as bad as it felt then, it is nothing compared to now.

Now, i am in the house maybe 6 days a week. I am taking laxatives every single day, restricting what i eat and feeling the intense shame when and if i do have something. I am so consumed by this thing that i can't hold up a conversation. I can't leave the house some days. I can't look in the mirror. I can't wear anything that shows my figure. I can't wear old clothes because they scare me. I don't know what i am scared of anymore. I don't know what triggered this to come back so strongly

I don't know what it is going to take for me to stop this. For it to stop. Is it going to take me having some sort of heart attack? Losing part of my intestine? Pooing blood? Blood pressure problems? Fainting? Death? How fucking far am i actually going to let this go? Seriously?

I wish i knew the answer. Or maybe i do and it is the answer that i am so scared of.

Often, my sister wonders what is worse; Anorexia or Bulimia. I want to have an answer to the question but, in reality, they both feel like the worst when you're so in them that you don't see a way out but then when you are in the other side, you can't imagine feeling any worse. Does that make sense? Probably not.

Basically, right now, i am going to ignore the FEELINGS of my eating disorder because i know that they are going to be very dominant anyways, like always. And they are going to feel worse now because...well, just stick with me on this. I am finding it hard to articulate what i am trying to say. What i know to be true is that things, behaviour-wise, are worse than they have ever been. Ever.

I was thinking about things today and i was thinking about how stuck i feel and how obviously sad i am to be in this situation but i am holding on to it for dear life. I am still working to be thinner, because being thinner is going to make me happier, isn't it? No. No it is not. I just wish i could snap out of this mindset and in to some sort of healthier place. I wish i could say to myself that being thinner is not going to make me any happier. Well, i can say that to myself if i want to. Saying it is the easiest part. It's the believing part that i am struggling with.

How do i make myself believe something that is so foreign to everything that goes through my mind right now?

Even writing this i feel stupid because i am thinking 'what a load of shit. a fat girl can't say these things' but this is my blog and i can say whatever the fuck i want so i am riding this out. I need to get something down on ...not paper, but you know what i mean. I need to see the pixelated remains of my mushed up brain; to see it in front of my very eyes.

That's probably the question. Do you have to see something to believe it? Or do you have to believe in something before you can see it?

How long...

I am just sat here wondering. My head is full of some sort of tornado of thoughts, emotions, single words. They all jumble together in to some sort of word broth that i can't seem to decipher. If i could separate this thought from the last then i would probably get some idea as to where the hell i need to start but they're all just mushy. Everything is tainted with a shade of grey, the whole world feels really bland and tasteless. Everything is so obviously bad and i can't be bothered to hide it from anybody anymore. If you ask me how i am, you wont get lies, you wont get to see my facade anymore because i honestly don't have the energy to lift the mask up to my face and smile sweetly. I am not going to pretend, i am no longer the pretender. I am hurting and i am not ashamed of the pain but i am ashamed of the situation i have gotten myself in to.

I called my eating disorder therapist because i didn't know what else to do. I tried calling my CPN but she isn't in. She never is fucking in. I couldn't be arsed to leave her a message because i wouldn't know what to say to her. Last time i left one, she didn't call back until the following week and i can't be bothered to contact them.

I called the ED therapist (Andrea) and spoke to her. I didn't even know wtf i was going to say but i felt like i needed to share, share the pain with someone and hope that they would give me a magic solution. I get like this every so often. Things are bad and i make deals with myself that if i call a therapist or a shrink, they will fix it and they will make everything better and happy. They will inject me with a magic rainbow and then everything will smile and be sparkly and people will be skipping and singing. We will all be dancing around in circles and playing together.

Unfortunately, it hasn't worked yet.

Instead, i was told i need to get out more and i was informed that this is all my illness. Well duhh. I knew that. I want magic pills. I want a magic fix. I don't mind if it is just one day but i would quite like to travel back to that time so long ago and yet not so long ago at all. The time when i could wear tight clothes and buy nice things. The time when i quite liked my boobs and when my stomach did NOT even bother me. We are talking tight, small sized cotton longline vests. They were not forgiving and i don't know if they looked nice but it felt good. I felt like i looked nice. I feel like that is so much more important. I don't actually care about looking nice anymore. Its overrated. I don't care about whether other people think my stomach is flat or my arms are flabby. I care more about how i feel and about how i see myself.

If i feel ugly then there is no point in you saying you disagree because the feeling is still inside me and i am still believing it.

eurgh i am not even making sense but i am going to post this anyway because i need to vent and to do something.

I don't have an appointment until Tuesday. That one will be with my support worker. I don't count that as being a 'proper' appointment though. My next 'proper' one is on either Thursday or Friday (i don't remember) and that one is with my shrink. Cue gay comments. I am not in the mood to put up with any shit or any sort of comments that are considered to be unhelpful or inappropriate. I can't be bothered with them. And i am mad with my fucking eating disorder and because i can't tell that, i am going to have to focus on something else for a bit.

I don't know what i have even written in this blog, i am just going to post it and not even read it back because i am scared of what i might have said or not have said and i can't be arsed...

hm

Convincing myself that there isn't really a problem.

I gain weight, i leave the house, i meet people for a drink or have someone over for the night when i 'should' be taking lax or doing my upmost to lose weight and i am recovered. I keep thinking it all the time. 'Well, things can't be that bad if i can function like a normal person'. But i can't function like that at all. Let's take last night for an example.

Liv came over to mine and we had a nice time but fucking food clouds my judgement of everything. I don't know how much alcohol i can handle or how much food i should at or whether i can or...i just don't know that much to be honest. All i know is that having someting in your stomach to soak up alcohol is never a bad thing. And so, when i was already really rather intoxicated, i decided to have something to eat. After a drink, i often get to the stage where i could easily eat a house and so, to have something a little bit before this stage is normally a safe bet.
So, i cooked my soup, weighed it out, calculated the calories. Weighed out 15g of Philladephia and grabbed a serving (5) of water biscuits. That's naff all for me. Not normally even an issue. Oh noooo. This time it was a fucking joke. I sat down and Liv was there, all nice and comfy and we were just like two normos having a drink, being friends and watching Outnumbered. In comes me with the food and i can't stop fidgeting, playing with the fucking spoon. Pushing the dish away, pulling it back, stirring the soup, eating a cracker. Throw a cracker away. Have another half. Have five spoons of soup and boom. I can't do it. I panicked, flushed the soup and threw the rest of the cracker things away.

Fucking joker.

I honestly don't even have the slightest problemo with shit like that normally but bloodyhell, these days i struggle to eat in front of my closest friends.
If something touches my lip, i have to scrub it with my cardigan. If i touch food, i have to sanitise (apparently, in my head this will KILL the calories lol) and if i even touch something and think that somebody else has eaten something beforehand, i flip out and can't stop sanitising. Then, as soon as i find a toilet, i will wash my hands. 'Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to meeeeee. happy birthday to me'. Yep. That should be long enough. No? Okay. So i sing the song five times. A different set of movements each time. I turn off the tap, head for the door, open it. Oh my! Someone else will have touched that handle after using the toilet. That's when the sanitiser comes in to play.
My word it is a proper joke

I am starting to get mega sick and tired of all of my 'me' time is not actually me. It is more another chance for 'me' to torture myself with these bloody irrational, disordered behaviours and to panic over frigging calories.
Its proper ridiculous.

Erm.

I just realised i don't actually have any sort of direction with this post. Good times.

- - -

This morning, i woke up early and was hangin' like a bitch. I whacked Princess & The Frog on and watched that three times, then put The Proposal on and watched that but not for that long. I fell back to sleep and woke up at like...i think it was about eleven o'clock. Got up, got ready and then walked to Hillsborough with Liv. We went to Mozzas and then met my sister, put Liv on the tram and then me and Chantelle went to the pub.
Purple Rain pitchers from Wetherspoons are where it is at.
Its like Parma Violets and soda. FIZZY PARMA VIOLETS. IN THE DRINK FORM.
Nom? Yes. So very nom.
We had one of those, Chantelle had a meal and then we both had a Corona.
I came back and ate too much, felt too guilty and now it is nearly 10pm and i am in bed.

so hardcore.

YuHad2bder