Forgive the lyrical title, forgive especially that it's a Coldplay lyric, hahahaha. Every admission I seem to get a particular lyric association, one that goes around my head that fits the particular moment and this is so far the line of this admission, despite me not having heard the song in what's probably years. My last admission, coming just 2 months after the one before that came from Jamie T 'two months clean; routine to relapse' and there have been hundreds more, one for each of those horrible periods.
The lyric fits perfectly though. I knew myself it would be tough, and people agreed and acknowledged that. But God, to find yourself bawling at breakfast because somebody else at the table has milk on their cereal and it's scaring you, or sitting on Christmas day and spending a fortune in the sales to distract yourself from quite how terrible the Christmas dinner has made you feel, it's a whole other ball game. Maybe because it's just about 3 year since my last eating disorder unit- I started stopbeinginappropriatewithyourbread just after having me chucked out of there- I'd forgotten exactly how hard meals are, I don't know. The food is tough, and it's strange whenever they make a comment like, 'your white blood cells are very low, but that tends to happen when you're at a very low weight' 'cause I feel gargantuan. On weigh day, I don't know what I was expecting, but I think I thought my weight would immediately be back to where it was before, not still a million miles away from where it ought to be. I know I'll get there and I'd rather get there here than in another unit 'cause at least this one is nice, but I want it now and I want to go home so badly. At the same time as really not wanting to gain weight at all. It's conflicting and confusing.
I'm not very eloquent, that's the exhaustion. Christmas day was lovely and extra terrible and extra lovely and terrible. Lovely in that Ginge and my brother James came to open presents; extra terrible in the food; extra lovely because just as I was sitting almost crying after a hard meal, there was a knock on the door and when it was answered I paid little attention until I heard the voice of my beautiful 11 year old cousin. Since Mohammed couldn't come to the mountain, the mountain came to Mohammed, in the form of my grandma, two of my aunties and my two absolute favourites- Emily and Harry, my 11 and 8 year old cousins. It was set up as a surprise, and it was the best Christmas surprise ever. I miss them all already, that's the second wave of terrible, but I was so, so happy. I don't remember being that happy in forever.
I hope it's a more permanent feeling during 2013, I hope I can make it stick. Because I tell you, if I could bottle and sell that feeling I'd be a millionaire in seconds, there's nothing on earth like it.