Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Shopping and EDs don't mix

I have a wedding to go to in July. I have been vaguely looking for a dress, and today whilst entertaining our visitors at a big shopping centre i found something that was almost looking OK. But i called mum in to see what she thought.

She loved it on me, saying i look elegant, grown up, mature, stunning etc etc.

"You should know by now that i don't bother lying to you anymore" She said. "Yes you do have a stomach" as in a stomach that shows as a bump with tight clothing "But so do i"

I got annoyed telling her she had a 30 year head start on me with that one & that at 23 i should look like i am pregnant!

I didn't buy the dress then, but went back later on, just to see if it was still there. Mum followed me in & even though i was still undecided & close to tears, she went ahead and bought it, telling me i can return it if i decide i really don't want it. This is not a cheap dress at £75. So not only will i be wasting money if i don't wear it or return in within the 28 days unworn, but i will be wasting HER money.

Cue some comfort eating - a large soft pretzel from The Bread Shop.

She suggested some tummy control tights which i thought might do the job, but when i got home and tried a pair of hers on with the dress, i still looked pregnant! Cue floods of tears, a few sit ups (before i simply collapsed into tears again) & later lots of comfort eating - large portions of slices of 2 cakes (fruit & lemon drizzle) on top of pudding (banoffee tart).

I think my gym efforts need to be seriously stepped up when i get back there next week.

I told mum i'd let her pay for the dress & i'd pay for the liposuction. Her words were "don't you dare!" I said it rather flippantly but i think she knows with me these days that actually i could/might do anything and to take anything i say, semi seriously.

In 10 hours time we need to be leaving the house to get the train to London for the next day out. I still feel so on edge though, as though i want to comfort eat some more. Thing is, i actually feel physically full & don't feel physically hungry. Which then leaves me with the other punishment option/choice - harming. I'll see once i get up to my room.

"I'm just tired"

The title of this post is something i seem to be saying to mum constantly right now. Trying to reassure her that i'm not falling apart with the stress of the change of routine, no gym, no eating pattern etc etc. How convincing i am on the issue, i'm not sure.

Awake at 6 am, yet again for the 3rd day. Yesterday our visitors didn't surface until about 10am & in fact mum & D didn't get up until about 8am. So you can imagine my stress of trying to be the nice polite host, waiting for them, before having breakfast. I distracted myself as much as i could, laying the table, doing college work, having a shower & getting dressed etc, but while that may stop me from stuffing my face - as it was i managed to stick to fruit - it doensn't stop the stress. So then because we had breakfast at about 11am we didn't have lunch until about 3pm which meant my the time we got home we didn't eat dinner until 8pm & i was starving! So by 9pm we'd reached dessert. Now normally at 9pm i'm having a hot choc and settling down for bed, so you can see my anxiety. although by that time i was almost to tired to care & was rather reassured when i totted up my total, becuase i had only reached the calorie allowance for a bad day for me. So despite not being able to eat little & often like i normally do (which i think is part of why i'm getting so moody in the day), when i'm taking the strict healthier options (like lunch was a plain dry (smallish) jacket potato & salad (lettuce & cucumber) with a banana as i left the cafe) I'm still managing to stay within my allowed range (just).

Today - well, i've been up 35 minutes and not heard any signs of life & this morning my stress appetite got the better of me & i found myself eating some of the fruitcake i made. Not a huge amount, just 2 very thin slices, as thin as i could cut them, which meant they were so thin they crumbled & made a mess (over the tin luckily), but i felt like i could eat more, so i had a small pear which seems to have shut my stomach/appetite up. But cake & a pear by 6.30am isn't brilliant & who knows how much longer i will be up on my own for.

I was going to go for a run, but my knees really don't like running - i think i lasted all of 3 minutes on the treadmill the other day before wanting to cry in pain. And anyway its not like i'm sat on my arse constantly. If we're out we're walking around somewhere (yesterday was spent shopping in a city, & oh my god they can shop forever - we didn't leave until the shops were closing basically!), or if we're at home i'm generally washing up, tidying, cooking, helping mum etc. or walking around finding excuses because i'm too stressed to sit still. So its not like we totally inactive.

I do wish i could go back to sleep tho, i'm so tired. I might just curl up here on the sofa while there's no-one around yet.........

Sunday, 28 March 2010

Before Day 2 (contains graphic gorey dream description)

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YOU WERE WARNED IN THE TITLE!!!



A short nights sleep of 6 hours filled with horrendous, gorey, gruesome nightmares - well one part was like a horror movie.

This mans insides seemed to fall out & i was then looking at to men - one was his insides and the other........ just skin and bones on his body (ok, just thinking about the meaning of that as i'm typing it..... wonder is that part was significan at all?)

Anyway the eyes went with the insides, so there was a pair of floating eyeballs on top of a string of human intestines/organs.

Now i wasn't watching anything on TV last night, nothing during the day....we'd been playing a monopoly card card for a couple of hours before bed.

Why? could a couple of scratches - which was no-where near the damage i wanted to cause, and still feel i need to cause - cause a dream like that? it never has in the past.

Anyway time to just this short as everyone else has now got up, an hour a half after i managed to sneak downstairs watched Casualty (which i recorded last night, so that didn't cause the dream!), so yes - time to find my box of smiles (i'm going to seriously need to restock on plastic smiles after this week) and turn into the host again. Starting with breakfast - number 2 for me really, as i've already had 3 pieces of fruit & a hot choc. I do like organising and laying the table though. Things in line & in order etc.

Saturday, 27 March 2010

Day 1 of the Visitors

I was doing fine. I managed to cope at lunch with simply leaving the chips that came with me sandwich and salad, without feeling the need to eat them simply because they were there.

We walked around a town, near a castle - so a little bit of exercise.

But then we got home. I got through the door first and i knew as soon as i saw the envelope, what it would contain. The wonderful stress causing DWP. It seems its time to check whether i'm screwed up enough again.

But i'm fat not a skeleton now, i haven't harmed cut in about a month and i'm going out every day.

Ok, so i'm running myself into the ground until i'm shattered and fall asleep in the afternoons, i'm just as stressed by eating & food as ever. I stick to the same routine, i'm pretty close to breaking point, trying my hardest to hold it together for mum.

However i'm not seeing my GP, avoiding the surgery completely (honestly, i don't need to waste their time - i'm not dying) & haven't seen my ED nurse in about 4 weeks (am too big to really be seeing her anyway, i mean could you really say i have an ED anymore?). I'm avoiding Dr L - not that she's asked to see me. I due to see a psychologist - once i send their stupid form off.

So am i still fucked up enough? Will my mini breakdown last november count? Or do i have to attempt to work before depression and stress really kicks in again, cutting short my brief period of (kind of) stability and then go through their shitty stressful system again, being even more broke than i already am. Without mum & D i could not afford to live, but then without them i wouldn't want to live.

This letter/form feels like the excuse i've been waiting for. I just need to make sure i stay in relative control.

Friday, 26 March 2010

Stress levels @ Max

Stress levels are peaking, so much to do today even though the dentist just called to cancel.

Stress levels = appetite increase. Already an extra cereal bar & a couple of handfuls of cereal this morning.

Need to leave the house & go to the gym. Right Now before i eat something else.

And the family (all 2 of them) haven't even arrived yet..........oh help.

Monday, 22 March 2010

"Brrring Brrring, Brrring Brrring"

The telephone just rang. I answered to hear K's voice.

"Hello, it's K here. Can i speak to D please?"

At first i was relieved, because it wasn't me she was after/hunting down & it meant i didn't have to try and have a tricky conversation whilst mum & D were in earshot. I didn't have to explain why i haven't been to see her, & make up some excuse as to how i am feeling right now.

But now the phone has been put down and D has finished his simple "Yes, i'll get Hospital A to send you a copy that" conversation, i feel vulnerable. K is, once again, at the forefront of my mind. Memories of her care & concern are flooding in.

I'm trying to tell myself its best i keep away. Nothings disastrously bad right now, so i'm not going to bother her and waste her time.

Or maybe i should just focus on something else and try to forget how much i trust her.

Someone to confide in

I need to talk to someone. I cannot take keeping all this stuff inside of me. There is so much going on in my head, too much to deal with simply in diaries & blogging.

But this person needs to be trusted (which narrows is down a lot). I don't want to talk to a 'professional', who is going to write our conversation down or tell someone else. I just want someone to listen to me, share the burdens of my thoughts & fears, not to judge me & for me to know they are not going to tell more people.

I did have that once, when i was about 13 @ school. I wish i could see/talk to her again. She still lives in my village but i know she has a job with a local drug & alcohol service. I trusted her so much & still would today. She was the first person to recognise the depth of my sadness, aged 13 & tell me i was not just a moody teenager.

If i talk to M, Terry Pratchett, Dr L, K or even J, i know my words are destined to be written down, passed around, cause concern etc etc. I do not want that. I want someone to let me shed the tears behind my eyes until there are no more, instead of the brief leak once or twice a day when no-one is watching.

I want exclusive confidentiality which MH Services (or GP surgeries) do not give. So i guess i'm on my own.

Saturday, 20 March 2010

Psychology department - stress before they start

I was expecting a letter from Terry Pratchett, but instead i get a letter from the department based in a town i rarely step foot in, asking if i would like a psychology consultation

No! I don't want a consultation/assessment to discuss my "difficulties, which is a very important way of reaching an understanding of them" or "how psychotherapy could help" me. And i don't need your "leaftlet explaining what psychotherapy is" & how i "may find it helpful".

I didn't request to see a consultant- i was told i was going to see one - a specific one - Terry Pratchett with the hat. I wasn't told i should wait until an appointment "is available", once i returned a form.

And i certainly don't want to fill in "a Personal questionaire" that you "will also send" me. If you want to know my history, do your job and READ MY F***ING NOTES!!! There must be a dozen personal questionaires in there anyway. I mean we all know you 'professionals' don't give a damn what we say to you anyway and will simply listen to what other 'professionals' have said instead. But then having ordered copies of my notes once, about 6 years ago, and recieved 4 two inch thick envelopes i can see why you can't be bothered to go through it all. But i have given Dr L a summary of all 'professionals', medications & hospital admissions previously. And anyway Terry Pratchett asked my permission to contact my last psychotherapist who i got on very well with.

Needless to say after opening and reading the letter, followed by some crying/sobbing, it was duely thrown as far as i could across the room. It flew a couple of metres.

I don't plan to send the form back, i plan to call them (possibly) and tell them what i think. I think something along the line of "i didn't request this - i was told it was going to happen. So stick to what i was told & stop screwing me around!" I think mum is planning on calling someone at the CMHT too.

Must dash i have to be digging/collecting some manure that mum wants in half hour & we're still finishing breakfast in our PJs!

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Ghosts from the past

I was doing fine. I'd managed to make an effort with clothes, jewelery & make-up. I finally decided on ordering a starter but as a main course portion, but in fairness the menu was huge and we were handed 3 separate bits of paper to attempt to decide from, most of which was meat. In fact there was no lighter option so i think i did quite well. I'd even managed to enjoy a small pudding too, although 2 tough gym classes, a walk into town to get some space and time out in between, and then an afternoon of depression & nothingness and an hours sleep meant few enough calories consumed to be able to relax about going out tonight to eat.

I'd actually managed to make it through the evening without it feeling like a forced happiness where i have to go to the ladies to have a quick cry.

Almost made it out of the door, but then you walked in. I'm pretty sure you didn't see me, but i never forget a face, especially one i spent a few months basically living with.

The psych ward 2004 once i'd worked my way back up from the PICU. When you arrived you were a psychotic bitch who refused to talk to anyone, not because you were too depressed or anything, but the psychosis turned to you into a super bitch who was far too high & mighty to talk to anyone. After being dosed up on whatever anti psychotics Dr L decided to put you on, you changed. No longer 'super bitch' just simply 'bitch'. You were at least talking to people once you were well, but just talking to them like they were imbeciles & you were far better than them. Like when you told me that the show jumping on TV was easy & how could i ever know what jumping six foot was like if i had never jumped that high. All i said was that it was amazing how they never fell forwards when the horse landed, and that i didn't think i could do it.

I spent 4 months longer in that hospital than you did, you have no idea what it was like on the PICU & i expect you would have been beaten to a pulp had you acted that way if you were on the PICU. You had enough trouble with the lovely pregnant psychotic eastern european girl who spoke no english. She never faced up to me but then i was the one trying to distract her from your threatening stares. I've seen her since with her baby, completely healthy & doting mother. Tonight your eyes were stone cold, as though nothing had changed. Like me though you were still with your parents.

It brought back so many memories & now they won't go away. No doubt i'm in for a night of hellish dreams/nightmares too no matter how tired & exhausted i am.

Monday, 8 March 2010

Not enough

Why does my attempts at exercise feel like its not enough? Why do i still feel like i'm eating far too much? Why do i still feel like i look 3 months pregnant?

Managed to keep inside the calorie GDA (although i'm sure i read somewhere that apparently the female GDA is an underestimation) today but it still felt like a massive overeat. Compare to last weeks daily intake, i suppose it was, for the last 3 days (certainly over the weekend) i've eaten double the amount or calories i ate monday to thursday last week.

As for exercise, well i got to the gym half an hour before my class, so did 20 minutes in the gym before going upstairs to jump up and down (which my joints really don't like) for the first half of the class, then swing some weights around with some sit ups and stretches to finish. Its a great hour long class, with a wonderful instructor who when i broke down on one day, confided in me that she's been on a psych ward and suffers from Bipolar. I feel safe in her class, knowing she's keeping an eye on me. And i know she does, as she caught me staring into space today and snapped me out of it, encouraging me to go fora swim after the class. Which is what i did. I'd said to T at the time, that swimming didn't feel like enough but my knees and ankles hurt so much (i forgot the painkillers this morning) after bouncing up and down in T's class, that i changed my mind.

So after 30 minutes of up and down the fast lane, breaststroke, backstroke & front crawl, i dragged my shrivelled fingers & toes out to get changed. At which point i had a huge wobbly moment & called mum too ask if it was too late to change my mind about meeting her for lunch- which of course it wasn't. After lunch i decided i could squeeze in a quick gym dash before getting home to watch House (i'm catching up on series 1).


So,

  1. 20 minutes gym (bike & cross trainer)
  2. 1 hour class
  3. 30 minutes swimming
  4. 20 minutes (row, bike, cross trainer & treadmill - 5 each)
Why does that not feel like enough? I was contemplating going back to another gym this afternoon, however i rearranged a personal training session (that i cancelled due to illness a couple of weeks ago) for tomorrow morning, so i decided i should conserve my energy for 9.30am tomorrow when i will be pushed out of my comfort zone. And if i survive, i have a pilates class 15 minutes after that.

And i'm sure that won't feel like enough either.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

A safe place.

I don't care if it seems babyish or childlike, but i think every now and then human beings need cuddles. Not romantic cuddles, not parent/child cuddles, not patronising sympathy cuddles. Just someone to hold them, help them block out the word & protect them from everyone and everything outside.

I want to create a bubble around me and my protector. I imagine 3 layers/barriers - a humans arms around me, inside the imaginary bubble and inside a room (with the door closed). No words need to be spoken.

It doesn't have to last for long. I'm not asking for this forever. Everyone has their own ideal escape from the world, to re balance to mind.

For me, at the moment, i feel like i am being attacked & pressured from all sides. Everywhere i turn there is something/someone else out to get me. I just want a safe place, a space to let out everything I'm holding inside me.

Yesterday, there was only one semi permeable barrier while i sat and sobbed. There were four walls but the doors could be opened by anyone at any time.

I can't turn to mum. I can't let her see how much things are on top of me right now. But without anyone else to turn to without a) the fear of being turned away or b) feeling like i am putting too much onto someone i don't know well enough, then i fear i am running the risk of building up the pressure to a level where the release comes at a point when i lose control.

I can see two situations, one that i doubt will ever happen and another that may be possible, but i worry i would scare her off by clinging on so tightly. As is always the case though its the impossible that i would prefer.








This isn't coming out as i would like. My brain is too tired and drained to find the right words & express them as i am really feeling. I think i also have a fear of judgement. If i admit the exact details of what i wish for, i will be confirming things that people may think about me, that i don't believe to be true. That my wish for a little comfort is a disorder not a symptom of an illness.

Tuesday, 2 March 2010

He even had a hat! - "Terry Pratchett"

Today's meeting wasn't quite as bad as expected - although maybe it is better to work yourself up into a frenzy, get a very bad night's sleep the night before, go to the gym the next morning spend an hour in the gym (including 30 intensive minutes in the cross trainer) - half kill yourself (due to the fact of a lingering, so far, week long chesty cough/cold and therefore not having done anything thing other than a half hour stroll for the past 4 days), then do a pilates class & have a breakdown in the car on the way home (it really isn't advisable to drive whilst trying to avoid potholes, peering through a torrent of tears). Perhaps by doing the previous it makes the actual event seem less awful.
So after waiting 10 minutes Dr L marches in on her mobile, pausing to announce to the receptionist that she has a room booked, then carrying on her phone call as she proceeds to enter the designated room. Following behind is Terry - Terry Pratchett. Only after spending an hour in a room with him sat next to me in the circle, did the likeness occur to me. There is a slight physical resemblance (although sturdier in stature), the softness of his speech (I'm hoping that wasn't simply for the benefit of not scaring me off for good, after today's introduction) and there was even a very similar style hat to complete the look. On looking for a suitable photo, i have however, discovered that the real Terry Pratchett is bald on top -My Terry isn't.
After another 10 minutes, presumably for Dr L to finish her phone call, either that or it took them that long to put 5 chairs in a circle, we were called in. I ended up sandwiched between Terry and mum. The floor seemed a very attractive and my gaze stayed focused there for most of the hour, at least certainly when i had my glasses on. A black cat worked it's way from the floor outside up onto the patio table, then onto the brick wall, running along the wall not caring in the slightest about the trees in its path. How i wished that cat would come and rub itself around my ankles, giving me some comfort in the room, which felt too open and exposed.

The tears started when mum mentioned our brief discussions between us at home. I kind of knew she would mention it & i should have been prepared, however i had forgotten to take the tissues that i had remembered to bring with me, out of my bag. Before she had managed to get 2 words out, i stood up and retrieved the tissues from my bag in the seat behind me. From then on looking elsewhere other than the floor was not a problem, seeing as i could no longer see any ones facial features. I could no longer feel their eyes boring into me, laying heavily, rummaging around trying to reach into my inner thoughts.

I realised when i got home though, that the way mum's words came across, weren't exactly how i feel. Mum described our conversation about the fact that if she wasn't alive, i wouldn't be either. The way i felt it came across was that i am living because of mum & because i couldn't bare to be without her. I'm not saying i couldn't bare to be without her, and yes it probably would be another reason for me to leave this mortal earth. However i feel i am living FOR mum. If i died it would break her heart, and that's what i don't want to do. Maybe mum didn't understand which point of view i was coming from?

D had a good go at laying into all the previous therapists/counsellors etc that I've seen. Describing how they delved into my past, looking for a cause and then soon after left the service/transferred somewhere else/went off sick - permanently, etc etc. At that point i was screaming & cheering inside;

"Go D! Go D! Go D!"

It felt nice to have somebody stand up for me and not just paint me as the, unsolvable, black sheep straightaway.

Terry seemed/said he was impressed how I'd got over (HaHaHa!!!) the anorexia. My reply to that was that i wasn't happy, which was why i was "living" at the gym at the moment. (Shhhhh..... don't tell anyone but the restriction is greater and i really pushed myself at the gym today, even though the cough is still there)

I've said I'll do whatever mum wants. I want to make her happy - or at least try. I've fucked up so much, it sounds like she sees my biological clock as ticking etc so basically if i had said no to Terry's suggestion of seeing him, i would have not been trying/letting people down etc etc.

Therapeutic Communities were mentioned. I think Terry sees one of the main problems as the extra strong emotional bond between mum & I. I think they see a TC as a way of cutting the apron strings. After a bit of googling tonight, it turns out Terry used to, or possibly still does, work at a TC in London. No wonder he's all in favour of it then!!

Anyway the outcome of today is that i will have a few/some (no specific number given) sessions with Terry and Dr L will keep an eye from a distance.

I must remember to make a point of making sure he understands my point of view with regards to me being alive and mum's existence. I was rather impressed that he asked my permission to contact my last psychotherapist, who i got on very well with. I know this previous guy will give me fair representation. I always felt like he understood me and he always seemed to get genuinely infuriated by tales i would tell him or remarks people had said. He was on my side. I hope Terry will be too.

Mum & D are out tonight - i hope mum's managed to forget about me, stop worrying about me at least for a couple of hours. I know she was worried about how I'd be after the meeting this afternoon - but playing dumb to an annoying sales call was a good way to play the evil sadistic bitch just a minute ago gave me a good laugh. I'm not the harming, reactive teenager anymore. I don't overdose because psychiatrists upset me, like i did when i was 15. I may not be happy but that don't mean I'm going to harm myself at the first chance i get to be alone.

Besides i need to rest tonight before a mammoth gym effort tomorrow. 2 classes with a 2 hour gap in the middle during which the plan is stamina not an all out workout, like today. Some sleep would be nice tonight too.

Monday, 1 March 2010

"Mama, I love you...."

I daren't risk playing that song by the Spice Girls today - otherwise i'll never stop crying. I'm fighting the tears as much as i can already.

Mum and i had a 'heated dicussion' about tomorrow's meeting, last night. I said she was wasting her time, she said she needed to to it otherwise she hadn't tried everything which would mean she had failed. She still seems to think she can cure/change me. Through the tears i tried to explain that i was sorry for being such a failure, but maybe this was me - maybe it was depression that you couldn't cure and just had to manage. She started the guilt trip reminding me how she felt back through all the previous major crisis'/episodes eg. car crashes, when both david and i were in hospital at the same time and the carpet fitters were coming the next.

Ok, i'm surprised i got this far, but the tears are starting. there was just one last think i wanted to say and that was how mum pointed out that one day she won't be here, what then? "I'll be gone too" i said.

Mummy i'm so sorry. I'm sorry i love you too much, i'm sorry i can't be what you want, I'm sorry i depend on you.

I have to go. Going to try and cry (and limp) my way through a gym class. not sure i'll make it to the end - think i should grab a spot by the door today.

 
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