I used to live in such a way that half the time I wasn't sure whether it was me or my eating disorder that felt certain things, disliked certain things and acted in certain ways. Naturally, when you live within the pocket of a particularly forceful person- as so often it felt like the disorder was; an abusive Siamese twin- you lose your sense of self and with that goes the ability to detach your feelings from theirs. Mostly now, I'm alone. I've gone through the long, painful, operation to separate myself from my conjoined twin, and I'm forever recovering, slowly getting stronger. There are some things, though, that linger, some reactions and feelings that aren't mine, but still sometimes shove their way forward, fighting any reaction that might belong to me alone.
What felt, for a bit back there, as MY first reaction to being told I had to repeat the year at uni was to kick off, to act in a particularly dramatic way and to make the black and white decisions so typical of an eating disorder. No compromise, no room for logic, just the FUCK YOU attitude which pretty much defines what was my disorder, especially from when I was 16 or 17. Before then, I was too concerned with hiding shit and making a good impression, but by the time I was 16 or 17, my world narrowed to the width of a pin and FUCK YOU was my (our?) reaction to everything and everyone. It was a protective thing which, I've slowly learnt, I don't need. It's counter-productive to everything but maintaining a severe, public (public to my world, anyway. Pretty much everyone around me knew by then) eating disorder. Still though, it lingers and like I say, it popped up again, with particular force, when I read the email telling me I was to retake.
I've appealed the decision now, and HAD made the decision that if my appeal was not successful, I'd attempt to transfer to Hull uni, 'cause then I could live at home and commute. A giant FUCK YOU to the uni I'm at now. And I felt awful. It's pretty much the reason I haven't blogged for a week, for most of it, I've been feeling horrific 'cause of the decision I thought I'd made. I've calmed down though, reclaimed my own feelings and thrown out the automatic fuck you, and now I think that even if I do have to resit, at least I have all my friends, all my healthcare, EVERYTHING down in Essex. I'd have no therapy if I moved back up north, 'cause of waiting lists, so I'd be in hospital more. I'd have to set up and get a new CPN and psychiatrist. I'd have to set up with a new student support, sort out new Disabled Students' Allowance, and so on. There's so much, and, really, I just massively can't be arsed. I don't want to have to learn my way around a new uni and city alone, I really have a hard time with being alone. I can't abide being alone. I'd rather do another year at Essex, than all of that. Besides which, my set up for next year will be diff. I'll be with my VERY EXCELLENT Ellis, in our beautiful flat, and so will be able to escape from the uni and the paranoia I constantly feel there in a way I couldn't this year, 'cause I lived on campus.
So I'm sticking with it. I hope I'll only have another year, but if I have another two, I'll survive. I'll get over it. And one day I'll look back and... shit on the uni. I don't think I'll ever look back and laugh, but I'll sure as hell shit all over the whole mess ;).