Can't Cook, Won't Cook

Why, just because you aren't a gourmet cook, does that then mean that you can't even step foot in the kitchen? Please indulge me here i need to have a rant and a rave - and its not even about the issue of food!

Everynight D comes in and sits down before dinner, either on the sofa or upstairs on his PC. He gets home before mum normally, who will come in at 6pm, have a brief sit down and a drink and then get on and start cooking dinner and i will start cooking mine.

We used to have a system where i would give mum a night off and cook their dinner as well as mine, which gave her a chance to have one night a week off and also i'd find something that took a little more effort and time for them too. That time that mum doesn't really have, and certainly when she gets in, she doesn't have the energy to do after a full day at work. The idea then was that D would "cook" one day a week too. I say "cook" like that....well, bascially because he can't! Some nights he's served up a jacket potato that was even cooked through! When he lived on his own, he lived off microwave/ready meals or tins and packets with a bit of veg thrown in somewhere along the lines but probably frozen rather than fresh.

He really has never had it so good. Mum (or I, if mum has over slept, david has had a hypo in the night, or has to be in work early) gets up and makes his roll for lunch, getting a slice of bread out of the freezer for his toast at the same time. Weekdays he has cereal and toast for breakfast, well we've covered the toast but he does get his own cereal out of the cupboard, and even dishes up some museli for mum. However have said that, when the cereal is running low and it will clearly not last until the next weekly shop, he doesn't bother to write it on the shopping list, and then has the cheek to ask, "Is there anymore museli anywhere?" These days my simple reply being "Did you write it on the shopping list?" Sadly this week, i gave in and pointed out to mum how much museli was left, but i doubt it would have lasted another week had i not got another bag last night. It does make me feel less guilty about picking out all the raisins when i top the box up though!

Before he leaves he picks up his freshly made roll, and manages to find a yogurt from the fridge (although if they are not in the same place as usual, he has a problem (like selective hearing i think) with his eyes that means he is incapable of looking that little bit further. He also manages to find his way into the lounge and locate the fruit bowl, which again is clearly on display, and selecet a couple of pieces of fruit.

So when they get home from work, and then mum starts dinner. Wait. Actually, lets stop right there and make that point. Mum is always the one who starts making dinner, no initiative from him at all. In fact last night i thought it was strange that is was almost 7pm and mum hadn't even started cooking, as we normally aim to co-ordinate our timings so that we eat at 7pm. I wasn't too worried, as i had made my salad and got my bread out ready to go with my dressed crab, which i had picked up from the reduced counter in Tescos (divine by the way!! more brown meat than white meat.) When i re-entered the lounge i caught mum glance a the clock, then at me with a wry smile. I then understood. She was waiting to see if he was going to get off his backside and do something about dinner. He'd claim he didn't know what was planned or what she wanted as an excuse. Five minutes later mum gave in. He continued to watch TV.

Just because he would have destroyed the beautiful pieces of skate that were planned (not that he even knew that, despite the fact they were right at the front of the fridge), or not had the first clue how to make chunky chips/wedges from a huge potato, or boiled dry the frozen petis pois - Does that then mean that this should stop him from asking what he could do or offering to help? It makes me so so angry. I offer to help mum, but am wary of being told i'm interfering as i have been in the past. I know she's grateful on nights when she's stressed or running late, but i also know that she needn't be running late, if someone else (D) were to start things for her.

I mean she plans the meals, writes the shopping list, cooks the meals, does part of the washing/drying/putting away of the dishes (3 parts to that and 3 people - should be logical). During the week I clean most of the house, i do the weekly shop (either meeting mum to do it jointly, D meeting me at the end to pay or I do it all like yesterday). Mum then cleans the bathroom and changes their bed, cleans their room. He only does things when instructed to, and by then mum is already cross and stressed. She does his washing, which he does manage to put in the linen basket at least i guess. She then irons his clothes (although i know she hates it so i've started doing it some weekends. It helps me weekend stress levels too as a good distraction).

But its the weekend. Mum also works full time and in fact even longer hours because she has slightly further to travel. So i want mum to be able to have time to relax and do the things she wants to do, even if it is just sit down and watch TV or read a book. Mum made the comment last night that if she is to continue to wash, cook and clean for him that she should give up work. Which i whole heartedly agree with - and not just because it would be i had her home all the time!

I've told her to not cook him dinner. That she should cook her own and leave him to sort himself out. And even when she does tell him its down to him she makes it so easy for him. Too easy in my view. For example a ready made quiche/pie, salad and potatoes of some kind. I tell her she's too easy on him. I think she is finally getting to the end of her tether, at least i hope she is. I don't want to hear a blazing row though, i'd rather she made him realise by actions rather than by yelling at him. I suggested that her and I go out to dinner one night. I don't think she thinks i would go through with it, despite saying it about 5 times last night. I have somewhere in mind, i just need to check out the menu to make sure and then i'm going to book it and simply tell her! And i'm going to tell her NOT to make it easy for him. I think she should simply tell him he is going to have to cook his own meal, although i think he'd probably just go down the the fish and chip shop. Maybe i should warn them too and tell them not to serve him!

It just makes me so angry, how much he takes mum for granted. I just wish mum would put her foot down rather than wait til she gets to a state where she feels like she's going to explode. I hate seeing her like that night after night. Oh and of course i forgot she does the cooked breakfast on a sunday and organises the lunch at weekends. It's wearing her down and IT'S NOT FAIR!!!





(and breathe.....)

FBC, ECG, BP with a side helping of fear

The warning signs started today. Or so i thought. After i got out the shower the chest pain started. Not a sharp pain, more of a dull heavy pain, right in the centre of my chest. Before the shower as with yesterday i was so aware of my heart beating in my chest, almost with palpitations too. I tried to ignore the heavy weight pressing on my heart, carrying on getting ready to go and see M. Fighting back the tears of fear, i decided that it was time to get my ticker checked out. I told myself that if the pain was worse by the time i needed to leave to drive the 30 mins to meet M, then i would cancel M and go to the doctors instead.

By the time i came to leave, it was no worse and i felt ok enough to drive. However i made a mental note to bring the topic of an ECG up with M but to make it seem more of a routine thing than a paniced emergency. I lost another 0.6kg since last week. I seem to have lost all reasons to care anymore. I really am asking for trouble, this is going to end in either hospital or a wooden (or maybe eco friendly cardboard) box. But perhaps those options seem preferable right now to me. Anyway with the CPA looming next tuesday i suggested blood tests, and questioned whether an ECG would show up any damage i had done already. M said blood test would be a good idea and there was no harm in an ECG, better safe than sorry so to speak.

After dropping my car at home and noting which staff cars were in the car park, i walked, heart racing and still aching, to the surgery. Where a newer receptionist (who doesn't have an knowledge of my long history and emergencies) told me that the nurse practitioner, J had some appointments but that they were released at 2pm - it was then 12.30pm. Fortunately, as i was waiting F, a healthcare assistant who knows me well, came into the reception area. I made the excuse of asking her how long blood results took to come back, mentioning the CPA on tuesday. After a quick discussion with J, F called me down to the treatment room, finished up some paperwork, then checked what i'd had done last time (which it turns out was 6 months ago!) and proceeded to take a couple of viles of my blood.

As i walked back out the clueless receptionist asked me if everything was sorted out. I explained i would be back later on to make sure i got one of the embargoed appointments with J. By then it was about 1pm, so she suggested she may as well book me in already. Maybe i looked even worse by then, as i don't think my weakening body will have appreciated any blood being taken from it. So i was booked in for 4.45pm, only almost 4 hours to go. Back at home, fear took over again, and i delved into the cheese box. With following regret and restriction of course.

The dull, background ache remained and by the time i reached the waiting room for my appointment i was filled with fear, depression and sat lost and alone in a room of people, but safe in the knowledge that if anything should go wrong now, with my anxiety levels rising, i knew i was in safe company. I knew of at least three people withing the building who knew me and my situation well, and i was sat right in the view of one of them, although i was planning on having her scrape me off the floor like a previous occasion. J called me in and by the time i sat down in front of her, the tears were flowing, despite her cheerful, warm and welcoming smile. J has seen me cause so much damage to myself, but she's more used to me holding myself together physically with the need of being stitched back together. Which i think is what she was expecting when i confessed that i had scared myself again. I explained about M and the CPA, but also confessed the chest pain that had prompted me to go through with getting the test done.

She took about 3 readings and popped out just to double check with the doctor on duty. As she re-entered the room she tried to reassure me, "You'll be glad to know he thinks it looks normal." But was i relieved? This was the perfect excuse for ED to carry on as per usual. She checked my BP, but by this time i was feeling so low, depressed and morbid that i actually forgot to ask what the result was, but she didn't mention any concerns, and she managed to get a reading this time which she didn't when i saw her previously. We talked for a bit, or rather she talked and i sobbed.

I released some of the fears and feelings that are trapped inside of me. Trapped because i don't want to hurt or scare people but there are other people i fear letting inside my head because i'm concerned it will give them a reason to condemn me to a ward. J listened while I let out the fear that one day mum will come home from work to find me sleeping, but never to wake up. Its not what i want her to find and its not something i want to do to her in general. I still cling onto the thought of those 4 people i live for and J could name the 4 without me giving too many clues. I felt a burden lift from my mind when i told her how there is a part of me that has totally given up and is hoping for that break from life, like i am being unchained from the shackles that are my existance. I felt J's frustrated but caring eyes watching over me as i wept, she expressed how she wished she knew how she could help, how they all did there, and i know that they will do almost anything that would positively help me. I felt like J was holding back though, wanting to physically reach out but held back by that professional barrier. She placed her warm comforting hands on top of my clasped ice cold fingers, but almost was afraid to leave them there for too long. When i was a teenager i got very emotionally close and attached to some of the staff, which has left them wary, even though there is a marked difference in my attitude and maturity now, but with my past adolescent actions i can understand their caution. J's hands moved to and from mine at least half a dozen times, and on leaving i prayed she would let go and break through and ignore that boundary, but with a hand firmly on my shoulder she walked to the door. She knows more of my history than F does, who couldn't keep to the boundary earlier when she took my blood.

The conclusion of the test - my heart is not yet broken however the bloods will not reveal its secret until friday at the earliest. But J suggested i had some porridge once at home (i wish i could tell you i managed that J, a mandarin was extra to me but porridge was too far) and she emphasised that if the symptoms got worse, i should take myself to hospital - not a plan i have in mind.

The conclusion in my mind? I'm not sure if there is one. All i feel tonight is the wish to be wrapped up in safe, warm arms protected from the world and more so myself. Once again though, like in my teenage years, i don't crave my mother's hold. However this time it is for her protection not from a lack of love for her, in fact the complete opposite. I know she would be hurt if i found that comfort elsewhere again, and would no doubt bring back memories of years gone by, but i think i'd rather that than her holding a living skeleton.

So for now my teddy will have to soak up my tears, while i pray that my aching heart can recouperate over night. And tomorrow? I think i'm going to lose myself in the crowds in town with a drink and a puzzle book. No thinking, No pretending. Just take it as it comes. At least i won't have the fear of being alone and unfound if something were to happen. All i have to do i get out of bed tomorrow morning, a harder task than this morning i think.

Did i eat that? (food diary entry)

My brain really has completely lost it. I really struggle to remember what i've eaten and then panic that i've blocked out something that i HAVE actually eaten.

So what did today consist of? In no particular order.....

• 2 raw brussel sprouts
• 2 raw small mushrooms (one filled with quark and the other a tsp of picallili)
• 4 mandarins
• 1 medium apple
• a bowl of homemade beetroot soup (beetroot, stock cube and water)
• 2 medium beetroot (roasted)
• 2 red onions (roasted)
• 50g cous cous (with a veggie oxo cube)
• 3 mandarins

Why oh why does that seem like too much? This morning i felt closer to collapse that ever before and spent the morning doing nothing, and feeling very lazy for it. After seeing the scales go up (probably - hopefully - just water weight, although it could be the weekend catching up with me) by just over a pound, i told myself today that i was not going to eat anything until dinner and that i was to limit the number of squash drinks i had (being 5 calories each) and sticking to diet fizzy drinks and black tea instead.

I guess in some ways its good i don't listen to myself. The apple was a spur of the moment thing which i spent the rest of the day hating myself for, but then turning the heating off in the house was probably enough of a punishment.

I've thought about keeping a food diary so i don't get into these panics but where would i keep it? On paper or online? At least i haven't gone back to weighing every item of food. When i hit my lowest weight (only 4lb lighter than now) i was weighing every since item in my dinner. Each vegetable, because back then i was only eating fruit, veg and sugar free jelly. I mean weighing swede or carrots for example. Madness. But does that mean i'm not as bad as i was then? I certainly feel more out of control compared to then. However i tell myself i'm nowhere near that state, despite my weight. After all i had cous cous tonight, i had bread yesterday, i'll eat cheese these days (even if it is low fat) - its not just fruit and veg anymore - so thats progress isn't it?

Life without Anorexia

Carrie, at ED Bites has posted on a subject that i think is probably a big part of my struggles with anorexia. The title of her post is "If not ED, then what?". I think from my point of view though i don't know an adult life without major struggles regarding to mental health problems.

For the last 10 years, there has always been some kind doctor, therapist, psychiatrist, medication, hospital etc etc. I'll be 23 this year and 5 years into adult life, things have bascially got worse over the first couple of year and then changed direction over the last couple. So for me it doesn't feel like "It destroyed my life" like Carrie says but more, it IS my life.

Unlike Carrie, i don't have a pet, I don't have a desire to travel, in fact i don't even have the desire to leave the house some days and the only motivation to do so is to go and walk somewhere with the mission of burning calories or to escape the house and go and find a tea room somewhere, because i don't trust myself not to eat 'too much' at home (which is how i feel today).




On another note, i found this post, at Grey Thinking, detailing how inpatient stay can be very detremental and make you worse and drive your ED even more. They are all things i feel whole heartedly and would say applied to me with regards to self harm and hospitals too. Although i admit there were times that it was needed.

A Short Trip to Switzerland

I came upstairs to bed to watch this last night after a long day visiting my grandparents, leaving mum and D downstairs also watching BBC1. I was tired and emotional already, and we all knew what the programme was about (euthanasia) and with a star like Julie Walters playing the lead role, i wanted to watch it all the more. So why were we so suprised, when the programme finished at 10.30pm and mum came upstairs, to see each other in floods and floods of tears? Why did we both bother to dry our eyes before facing each other?

It created a common link/excuse between us, and apparently D was almost in tears too (his mother has been hit by various tumors and cancers including in the brain and bladder, although fortunately all have been caught in time.). So mum came in, sat on the edge of my bed and we had a long hug whilst both sobbing away. I fear we were both thinking about the same thing - my shoulder blades. I was so conscious that as she was stroking my backing that there they were protruding. Was she consciously tracing the contours of my shoulders blades or was it just coincidence? Were these thought going through her head as we sat there? Or was the thought about the issues of suicide and my past history the subject that was foremost in her mind?

The thought that i was left with - Is anorexia my "short trip to switzerland"?

We watched half of Dancing on Ice before bed to lighten our moods so as we would sleep more peacefully, question is, can we both get through the day with having last night's loser revealed to us?

Seeing K today. as per usual, not looking forwards to it.

A Miracle Cure?

Further to my tearful conversation this lunchtime with mum, i received this email during the afternoon:

"Try this for a suggestion - a 7 week plan.

You eat one meal that I have prepared in the first week (this includes meat but I will be gentle with you)

Week 2 you eat 2 meals

Week 3 you eat 3 meals

and so on until we get to week 7 but which time you are eating all meals the same as D and myself.

Don't come back with an immediate no - think about it until I get home please.

Love you

xx"

So there we go. If i agree to her plan, in 7 weeks my anorexia will be cured.

Other than i think she's being totally unrealistic with the time span, i don't like meat in texture or flavour really and the fact that her meals are so bland and boring, it's sounds like a great idea.......i don't think!

I knew i should have kept my mouth shut. Mum and I have been arguing since she got in from work and have gone to bed barely speaking. Not only that but i feel even lower than when i started today. My plans for tomorrow are not very positive either now. At the moment they consist of little food and lots of cold temperature and walking. Whether that will happen or whether i'll just curl up and cry all day, who knows. But i was so worked up this afternoon after the email, and despite being shattered after a stressful and emotional day, i still found the energy to walk down to the shop for a bottle of squash. It could have easily waited until tomorrow, but i just had to get out and walk.

On the up side, tonight after dinner (which of course wasn't up to mum's expectations) and i'd had my giant portion of melon, i then proceeded to have 2 extra mandarins. Now for me that extra 50 ish calories is a big deal. I didn't say anything to mum, but i doubt she even noticed. Even if she did, i don't think she could comprehend how much of a big deal something like that is for me right now, which is why i don't even bother mentioning these things. To her they are insignificant.

I've opened a door that i wish had been locked. Tonight i feel on the verge of suicidal again. I don't think i could describe myself as suicidal, because i'm not in a state where i would do anything quite that foolish, but i would prefer not to be living right now. Although i guess in some ways the way i am living my life right now is suicidal. Just in more of a longer term process.

Time to switch off for the night before i think myself into a state again.

Confession Time

I've told her. I admitted (almost) everything to mum. I confessed to the medication. I mentioned M's talk of refering me to the ED unit again. But i also confessed that i feel no reason to eat more, no reason to gain weight. I feel fine physically other than a little tired.

M said to me about my low mood. Now i know low weight can cause depression but lets look back at my history over the last 10 years. There hasn't been a year when i haven't had a depressive episode and its only during the last 2 years that i've stayed out of hospital for the whole of the year. And this time the depression is, right now, not as bad as it has been. Things were worse than this before Christmas in fact.

It's even harder to eat when you genuinely don't feel hungry due to depression. so far today i've had a pomegranate (i was fed up of spitting out the pips by the end - i don't think i'll buy any more), a pear and a mandarin. i have a bowl of soup (beetroot) defrosting, but i don't have any appetite for it. There's 2 hours before D and then mum get home, 2 hours in which to consume the soup.

Anyway mum's going to call M tomorrow. Maybe a miracle will come out of their conversation. Here's hoping.