Friday, 27 May 2011

Exhaustion and exams.

I'm mid exam period, which is all well and good because exams don't really stress me and I'm pretty sure I'll pass the year. Which, since this is my first year, is all I need to do. But I don't WANT to just pass. This is where my bottom lip comes out and I stamp my foot, passing for me is basically failing. Wait, I know that's a paradox. I mean JUST passing, as opposed to doing well, is all but failing. Worse than failing, much worse. Usually, when I know I'm not going to do amazingly at summat, I go out of my way to fail, rather than to be average or whatever. But I'm trying to keep my little barneys under control this exam period, because I need to cool it a bit on the all or nothing attitude, I'm doing my head in.

I'm so drained at the moment. I'm not really sure why, but I feel like the treadmill is going just a touch too quickly at the moment (anyone who has ever seen me attempt to run will REALLY appreciate that metaphor) and I'm TIRED. I'm tired of working so hard and getting nowhere- I really need a good (ha, 'good') binge sesh right now, I'm telling myself that after that I'm going to lose as much weight as I can before my uni's summer ball in two weeks, but of course I'm fighting it. And of course I feel shit and tired and fat and dirty. So, so dirty, just... ooft. Tired, tired, tired.

(Well, my tiredness is AT LEAST PARTLY because I went out last night and then got up early this morning so that I could revise for my exam tomorrow, so I won't make my current predicament into summat deep, when it was just really that I like vodka. But yanno. I'm exhausted)

And I'm not feeling very positive at the moment, big fat apologies

For all I said in my last entry, God. I've lost the fight. I thought I had it after that, I thought I was back on track. But it's never that simple, never. I'm tired of obsesssing and of having to work so hard just to be able to live a life that vaguely resembles normality. Do you see the pattern? I don't LIKE the idea of normality, of average. I want to be incredible and amazing and instead I'm fighting to try and be normal. So maybe I'm losing a bit of motivation, maybe I don't have the strength or the belief in what I'm doing, what I was doing, what I SHOULD be doing right now. I'm not sure what to do or what I even want to do. And I have it playing on my mind that my therapist thinks I'm slipping and so has referred me to another service. Which is fair enough, I get that she has a responsibility. But I'm really, REALLY sick of how, whenever I slip, I get fobbed off to another service, I get pushed along because I'm too much like hard work. If I'm too much like hard work for somebody who sees me once a week and is entirely detached, I'm most definitely too much like hard work for myself, when I have to live with myself, yanno?

I could just do with a rest, I think.

Friday, 20 May 2011

To love and to be loved.

I found myself back in hospital yesterday. Last June, I can remember being laid on a hospital bed, so exhausted that any form of conscious thought physically hurt, just sort of waiting for something, somebody, to bring me to either life or death. Purgatory. And yesterday? Although I've done less damage to my body (severe dehydration from this week's antics, but that was really it) recently than I'd done a year ago, I just... God. Exhaustion. Confusion.

But as the saline hit my blood stream, the exhaustion became anger. Somebody hurt me a few weeks ago. Not intentionally and in a way that would probably not have bothered me if not for a million separate events in my history. Somebody hurts me and so I respond by hurting myself? Where's the logic? It's like a country dropping a nuclear bomb that destroys half your country, and you taking 'revenge' by dropping another that destroys the other half of your country. So no, fuck that shit.

I let my guard down and let the disorder back in, these last few weeks. I'm not calling it a relapse because there's a certain permanence about that word. I'm not calling it a blip, because that's too flippant for a period that ended with me collapsing and being taken to hospital by ambulance. It was just a BAD TIME. But it's sort of renewed something in me. I will NOT do this again. I want to be strong. More than anything, I want to be strong. Laying in the hospital bed, wishing I at least had the energy to cry over the whole situation, brought back the feeling I had last June that all the hospitalisations since then just haven't. Hopelessness in the situation, combined with a hopefulness for the future and a the biggest motivational burst I can ever imagine.

I was hospitalised in October, January, March and then twice this month... seriously? What the FUCK have I been doing?

Monday, 16 May 2011

Empty.

I've just, literally just, taken laxatives for the first time in over a year. Don't be disappointed, don't take this personally. Let go of my hand, so you don't slip on the ice with me.

I need to be empty, but I don't want the silence that usually comes with emptiness. I want a vacuum, I want to know that inside I am clean and I am empty, but I need some violence, too. An explosion in space. Sorry, I have too many terrible analogies going through my head, because I don't know how to explain these things to people who don't live their lives constantly and consistently searching for a weapon of mass self-destruction. And maybe I shouldn't try 'cause you understanding isn't going to change anything. But I need to communicate this.

I know I'm going to be disappointed in myself. But right now, I just want NOTHING inside of me.

Thursday, 12 May 2011

Few weeks in the life.

999.
Security, police, ambulance.
Restraints.
Section 136, more bruises, more time in psych.
New diag-nonsense, more checks, new ideas for hospital stays.
Sickness, fainting, aches.
ACHES.

I think I owe myself the chances to write, to get shit out and to stop crying. Am I getting thrown out of university? Not right now, probably not. But how many more hospitalisations until then? 'The university gets really annoyed when the same name is flagged up so many times by security and the emergency services.' I don't know, I'm sure it won't happen... but what's going to happen when I leave anyway? 4 years of debt, to end up on benefits 'cause I'm too unstable to work?

I've worked so hard. So, so hard. But is it enough? Ever? Is there any point? Ever?

Sunday, 8 May 2011

Forgiving myself.

I am NOT a bad person.

Sometimes doing shit that I shouldn't doesn't mean I'm a terrible person, it just means that sometimes I forget this.

(forgive me?)

Tuesday, 3 May 2011

Feeling vulnerable.

I've found myself in a bit of odd position. I don't know whether this is going to be very coherent because I don't quite understand what happened/is happening, but bear with me. I did really well last week. Unprecedentedly well. And now I'm feeling a bit lost, because that isn't a place that I'm, like... It's alien. It's a strange place to be in and that scares me. I don't want to sound, you know, ungrateful or summat. Ungrateful isn't the word actually, because I really have worked hard to get to where I can start to do these things- I don't want to imply that my doing better is somehow down to anything but my own work, I am not taking this victory away from myself.

I know I sound like I'm making a disaster out of summat really quite good, but I think the disaster may already be happening. From eating a healthy amount, a GOOD amount, and not being sick very often and not worrying too much and even eating out twice, I've had two days of horrible, horrible binges. Far worse than I have been in months and months and months. So much vom' that I am feeling nauseous from from being dizzy. I feel revolting. And all I want is to starvestarvestarve. I want to sit with Pepsi and revision and hide. I want to shrink.

So now everything is triggering me. I'm scared of moving away from the disorder because it's all so different on the other side. It's like shaking off the stabilisers on your first bike. And I want to, I'm outgrowing this and that's GOOD. But I feel like I took steps forward and now I don't want to go back, but it feels inevitable. I know it's only been two days and this sounds like a lot of psycho-babble. But through this all, through the treatments and the disasters and the good shit too, I've actually got to know myself. And I'm a pussy. I'm a complete and utter wimp. I get caught in cycles that I'm afraid to get out of and I let myself slip back because I'll try my hardest to avoid...

Nah, this wasn't supposed to be self-deprecating. I'm sure that self-deprecating is probably just another way to stop myself making changes. Fine. It'll be fine.