Friday, 2 May 2014

Muddled.

I am officially a wreck. Far too little food and far too much thinking is exhausting. I'm spending most of my life fantasising about food, and the time I'm not fantasising, I'm feeling guilty about fantasising. I'm not sleeping properly and I look a bloody state and I have nobody to blame but myself. I think in the way your brain blocks out the pains of labour and past mistakes and trauma, my brain has blocked out the mental and physical pains of relapsing. It's like it's begging me to repeat the past, on and on and on.

I don't think I've ever truly worked on the core issues of my eating disorder. In a way, this is at least what I hope, because maybe this time will be different; I'll face the issues and finally conquer the beast. I can't live with the idea of spending the rest of my life doing this to myself and the people around me. I'm torturing myself with the facts of what this is doing to my mum especially, but also to the rest of both my blood family and the water family I've acquired- a ragtag bunch of the most amazing people you could ever hope to meet. They don't deserve this and the fact that they assert that I don't either is inspiring, given the pain I'm forcing upon them.

I don't really know where I'm going with this, and by 'this' I mean both this post and this relapse. I haven't a clue on either, in fact. I tried to leave this hospital today and was restrained back (bear in mind that I'm detained for my safety, rather than here by choice). I've been told that it's got to the point where I need to be 'very worried' about my BMI, banned from fizzy drinks, put on 5 minute checks and I lost all my time off the ward, earlier on this week. I'm on a fluids chart, have to keep my door open at all times and further restrictions can be put on me at any time. I'm trying my hardest not to fight them and to accept the help, because I know I'm lucky to live in a place where this treatment is paid for by the taxpayer and to be in a place where people want to help. I want help. I just don't know that I can accept it when I don't feel like I deserve it. I'm so confused and muddled and my brain just isn't working in the way that I'm used to.

I'm sorry this is so whingey, I'm just drowning. Screaming. I can't keep doing this.

1 comment:

  1. As a serial relapser I can certainly relate to the concept of anorexic amnesia. ED traps you into a false sense of security where it keeps quiet for a while when you do what it wants, and then before you realise it you are at the point where nothing you can do is enough to silence it, and you are trapped, physically and emotionally drained, constantly in mental conflict. Being ill is not a choice you make, something you want to happen. It is what happens when you resort to maladaptive coping strategies, safety behaviours when the world around you feels too difficult to cope with and healthier coping strategies stop being effective. During previous treatments I have focused on challenging ed thoughts and behaviours, adopting healthier coping strategies. What I havnt been able to do is address why the world around me can feel so unsafe, so distressing. So logically, hopefully, addressing this (I am hopefully due to start treatment in a therapeutic community which will focus on helping me manage my borderline personality disorder) will enable me to stop doing this to myself and my family.

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