Tuesday, 25 March 2014

The Skeleton and the shit times.

Lately, I've been having some family problems. Nothing that I would want to share on here, because privacy is privacy and I don't want to get more shit, truth be told. I don't like not being completely open and honest on here, but some things have to be protected. The troubles have all focussed around today, and the stress had me not eating at all, until the staff caught on and I was put on supervised Fortijuce and Bran Flakes (weird diet, I know, but whatever), then struggling away at that diet for a week.

With today looming, my intake lessened and on Sunday ground to nothing at all. It's been awful. Sometimes people talk about having an Anorexic voice in their head, but mine's the voice of a particularly vicious skeleton, through my ears, like it's standing next to me, talking away (I know it's a skeleton because when my weight drops past a certain level the audio hallucination becomes visual). The skeleton has been punishing me because of these issues ever since the problems started and I'd got into my head that come tomorrow things will get easier and the eating would re-commence.

I'm quite proud of the fact that today I fought the skeleton and took the Fortijuce. It wasn't easy and I needed an extra anti-psychotic after because the skeleton was fuming, but I made it and now I just feel quite happy and proud. Scared of the calories (I obsessively measure myself), but proud. I did it. And as angry as the skeleton is, I'm sure it'll be easier to fight tomorrow when today is nothing but a shitty memory. I need it to be anyway, because I have a damn good incentive- Saturday night in a spa hotel with Ginge, and the Lion King on stage on Sunday.

Today has been revoltingly hard. I cried all morning, until I fell asleep, then spent this afternoon in a total daze until I spoke to ma wuman Alex, and she calmed me right down.  I'll be ok.

Thursday, 20 March 2014

Kicking arse.

The last few days have been awful. This week in general has been hell-ish. This morning, I woke up early (I used to get up religiously at 8.32, but now I bloody well find myself up before 7. BEFORE 7. AM), and went for a fag. As I stood afterwards, bleary eyed,  trying to shut my bedroom door, I found I physically couldn't. I flooded the ward once (it was pretty hilarious, to be honest), by accident and since them my carpet has swelled and the door is just a tiny bit stiff. It's not major and it doesn't generally bother me, but enough for me not to be able to shut it properly when I'm weak. I'm weak. So at that moment, let's call it 7.22, I decided I was already bored of this relapse and was going to take whatever it took to get better. I was going to kick arse.

Of course, it's waaaaaaay too easy to say that, even convince yourself of that, when you have roughly 5 hours before you're meant to eat. And by eat, I mean drink a Forti-Juice (high calorie/nutrient drink). Yesterday I didn't even manage a quarter of the bottle, so I am kicking arse, theoretically, because the whole bottle went down today. Honestly, though, I feel horrific. I feel huge and guilty and like I'm literally expanding, from the calories. I'd like to be really upbeat and whatnot, but I can't lie. Well, actually, I'm a bloody great liar, but lying here would be like pretending this bitch of a disorder is a bitch in the sense of a cute, newborn female puppy, rather than one of those dogs that maul people to death.

I've got to do it, if for nowt else, so that I can go out with Ginge (mum, in case you're new to SBIWYB) and Emily (technically cousin, but really little sister) on Sunday. The calories I'd have to consume over the next few days to be able to go out with them is insane, and I'm stressing like buggery, but I have to do this. I can't do it for me right now, but I think I can for Ginge and Em, plus my beautiful Alex. I think. I still have more calories to consume today and the thought makes me want to cry. I'm so scared, because I know I'm losing weight and it's making me a bit, well, horrible. When my weight goes past the healthy mark, I get all demanding and pedantic and a bit of a monster. I want to be well and happy, and I want to be well and happy with Ginge, Em and Alex.

I thought I'd beat it this time. Or at least that I was on my way. But nope, a year since I last relapsed badly, here I am. This can't be my life, because this is fucking grim.

Saturday, 15 March 2014

A right old jumble.

I had a bit of a secret cry today. It was borderline pathetic (it would have been completely pathetic, but nobody knew/saw, so I'm allowing it the title of 'borderline'), and it all revolved around a bag of lollipops. Two of the women from the ward were nipping to the shop, and I couldn't go, so I asked them to pick me up a can of raspberryade. They came back with cherryade, which was still pretty damn great, and a bag of lollies for me. When people buy me food, I am notorious for over-thinking the gift. Are they buying me it because I'm fat and fat people like food? etc etc etc. In reality, they know I'm struggling with food so bought me something back that I'd hopefully be able to eat. It got me both sentimental and, I don't know, mental, I suppose. They're on a high shelf and hidden so I can't see them right now, but I'm still scared.

It's been a strange week. I went to go see my giant lesbian crush, Alex, on Thursday and every positive adjective you could throw out there went on. Wandering around Derby, hand in hand, lovin' life. Life at its best. It got hard, because when we went back to her flat we had the kind of heart to heart that actually breaks your heart. Not in a romantic way, just talking about plans and life and the world and the universe and everything. And leaving her hurt more than I could possibly have imagined. As well as my GLC, she's also my best friend and she's hurting and I can't fix that and it rips me apart every time I think about her, so bloody much.

The rest of the week has been a blur of general junk. My eating has got worse so they've put me on Fortijuce, which feels like a failure. I suppose because in a way, it is. It's a failure of a primal nature, the innate self-preservation and all that balls. I don't start them whilst Monday, and I have ward round on Tuesday and I don't think my consultant could give less of a bollock about my eating, so maybe I'll get out of it, I don't know. I don't know what I want, because it was me who asked for help, but every idea they came up with, I couldn't do. I can't increase the volume of what I eat. I can't change the time, the place or the food itself. I really don't know what the skeleton is going to make of an extra 300 calories, in the clinic, at dinnertime. I need to stop thinking as I type because it's making me stress.

Ok, a positive note (it's taken me a while to come up with one)... 20 days of not purging. Going from vomiting fluid 15+ times a day, to 20 days cold turkey has been hard but good. I should end on a positive, I think, so LET'S DO THIS SHITE. RA-RA-RA  CONDRON.

Monday, 10 March 2014


They're building up my leave quickly right now (it won't last, for reasons I won't go into just now, just trust it won't last long before they take it all back off me), so now I have unescorted grounds leave, which sounds hilariously more grand than just the car park with a few benches that it is. Really it just means I can nip out for a fag almost whenever I want, twice a day. Sometimes I go chill with other patients, sometimes I take out my Kindle and have a smoke and a read and everything is perfect. Like my leave though, nothing lasts for ever. Bit shit, that.

I'm low, I'm anxious, I ache, I'm fed up. I need to increase my intake because I've let it go riiiiight down, but had a meltdown yesterday over eating something with similar calories to what I normally eat, but that WASN'T my normal diet. I just feel so lost with it all. I mean, I'm safe, because I am in bloody hospital (I think that's why smoking and reading feel so good- it's the idea of freedom, even if I am metaphorically chained to the 'grounds.'), but I have mixed views on the whole thing.

I don't want to lose weight. I'd maybe like to tone up, but I'd like to accept how my body looks in the way I can accept that I can't walk in a straight line. The Anorexia wants to shed everything. The past, present and future. To be clean and pure and streamlined. I don't even know if this makes sense. Anorexia is rarely about how one looks, it's far more about... wow, how to sum that up. There are as many reasons as there are sufferers, and mostly, it's not entirely about being thin and it's rarely about emulating celebrities. It's a messy one and a total bitch.

I'll try and come up with summat vaguely interesting next time I post, but right now I'm consumed.

Sunday, 2 March 2014

EDAW 2014.

This week was Eating Disorder Awareness week, and given that I couldn't really take part in any events for it, I posted every day on Facebook, just little bits- although not that little; couldn't bloody do it on Twitter. 140 characters, boo- and I thought, yanno, for prosperity, I'd get copying and pasting... Alright, alright, I'm I'm being dramatic, it's really more for the people I don't have on Facebook. Here goes-

It's Eating Disorder Awareness week, and every day I'm going to post on here something a bit different. I'm sure a lot of you know my story- in and out of therapy; specialist units; in and out (but more in) acute psychiatric hospitals; feeding tubes in and out of my nose and currently been in hospital a year and a half. What I want to say though is that not every ED sufferer gets the help that I have been lucky to get. So many people suffer and are consumed by the disorder, but have stayed under the radar, especially people who aren't skeleton thin. EDs CAN AFFECT ANYBODY; OVER-WEIGHT, UNDER-WEIGHT, HEALTHY. And maybe it's those people we need to be more aware of. Please don't ever feel alone- I'm here, and I'll do anything I can to stop someone going to the way I did.

Today, to mark Eating Disorder Awareness Week, I want to talk about how although the brain of the sufferer is eaten alive by your ED, the brains of those who love you are also eaten alive. This isn't a diet or a quick fix to a bikini body, it's a disease that affects everyone around the sufferer. This isn't something I'm proud of, but I once went ape at my mum for trying to give me something 1 calorie over what the Anorexia told me to. It's not just Anorexia, either. It's having your mum crying because she can hear that hours after starting you are STILL throwing up and there is nothing she could do, except wait for a heart attack to stop you. I raise my glass and tip my head to all the families and friends out there, who aren't be being supported and feel like they're watching their child die. And I'm so, so sorry to everyone I put through it.

As I have done for the last few nights, I'm posting because it's National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, and tonight I want to talk about openness. I'm lucky enough to come from a very open family, but I have this fear of someone emulating me, thinking it's a quick fix diet, rather than a slow suicide. I asked my cousin, an extremely bright, astute, beautiful and just generally brilliant 12 year old some questions, and some of her answers gave me hope, some scared me. What the hell are we, societally, teaching girls? But here's the interview-

Rebecca- How old were you when you noticed I was 'different'? Did you just think I was odd, or did you realise there was more to it?
Emily-i was about 10 well i thought i knew you were different but i started to worry when you were wearing age 9-10 clothes then i realised

R-Were you told I had an eating disorder, or did you work it out? If you were told, how old were you? If you worked it out, how?
E- kinda both. i sorta figured it out before but them mum sorta cleared it up and told me the whole story

R- When you first visited me in hospital (when I had an NG, or when you saw me in Great Oaks [psych unit in Scunthorpe], up to you which one), were you scared? Why?
E-i was scared because i thought you was going to die or something because i knew that it could kill you

R- When I was 12, I spent a lot of time obsessing about my weight and looks. Based on you and your friends, do you think that's normal?
E- well everyone nowadays wants to be skinny to impress boys.
im like that too ive always hated my stomach and my hips and always longed to be skinny

R- In a choice between something delicious but 'bad' for you, or something boring but 'good' for you, which would you choose? Why?
E- delicious but bad for you because its everything in moderation

R- Do you think my Anorexia has had an impact on you? Do you think it's had one on the family?
E- yes i think your Anorexia did have an impact on me and the family because everyones always worryign about you

For today's Eating Disorder Awareness week post, I want to highlight the fatality of EDs. They have the highest fatality rate of any mental illness. I've known in person 4 people over the last year and a bit die from complications related to the disease, and sometimes I get scared that I'll be next. Sometimes, I log onto here and almost expect to find that its one of my friends. Far more people recover than die, and that's what I need to remember; death isn't a natural or inevitable part of the disorder, but it's always a fight. And that's a fight I, and you, need to win.

Today is the last day of Eating Disorder Awareness week, and so today I'm going to talk hope and help. Asking for help is the hardest part of getting better (that and the food they give you on units. Tinned potatoes bleurgh!), that first step may as well be a marathon, but it's possible. The way I did it, was to go to my GP, after years of refusing help, with my auntie, begging for help. I'd def recommend taking someone you trust. It's been a long 5 years since then, but although I'm not recovered, I've learnt a lot and got to a place where I can just about see hope. Thanks to an amazing family, friends who stood by me and good care, I'm here and I'm alive. And life is both the reward and the proof that it can be done. FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT.