Time After Time

So, I worked out why I’m having such issues with the whole ED thing despite being perfectly happy in myself and actually liking my life.  I’m actually really saddened because I hoped I was ‘’over it’’ as much as you can be ‘’over’’ PTSD while still being avoidant but here it is again.  Fuck’s sake.

Going through the immediate overload of PTSD was in itself incredibly traumatic (late 2011-2012).  How I felt was so bad and so overwhelmingly intense that had I the opportunity I would have killed myself, for sure.  Late 2012 – early 2013 when I was out, it was bad, it was awful, but it was not the same, and then April Lisa died, my venlafaxine went up, and I promptly went manic which got me out of a bad situation with my weight.  The few months it took to get my mood fully under control were really helpful regarding the PTSD and I maintained a good weight for a while, I think?

I know NY 2014 my weight was 41kgish so something must have triggered losing weight, but I’d had about 8 months where PTSD hadn’t been the issue it had.  I had a brilliant NY in Trowbridge.  And then, I remember it was doing a mindfulness meditation involving body scanning and focusing, and it snapped me right back to levels close enough that – well, I can’t remember the timeline but it can’t have been much longer than a week after that that Amy came, on the 16th, BECAUSE of how close to the edge I was – I remember that night Caroline had called the police because of how distressed and suicidal I was, I answered the door to them in the early hours.  By which time of course Amy was either unconscious or dead.  And there’s actually a lot of trauma stuff around that too which I guess is fairly unsurprising, the trauma obviously around finding my best friend dead; but then she only came because of how I was feeling – and I was back into a place where I was going to kill myself.

See, right now, I do what I need to do to make sure my weight doesn’t go up past what I can get my head around as shifts that are going to happen as a result of the balance between behaviour severity and the success level of fluid replacement, and as long as my weight doesn’t go up past that, I am not focused and preoccupied with my body.  Just to clarify, there is a HUGE difference between being stuck in ‘’feeling my body’’ in terms of pains, symptoms (information) and being stuck in my body emotionally, which is what happened when the PTSD originally kicked off and what the body scan tripped off, and it trips off all the flashbacks.  The body scan exercise tripped the switch, but originally I had been in increasing amounts of distress about weight gain, and it got to a certain point and that was it – however, back then this was stuff I had managed to supress fairly effectively up until that point, so I had to go through remembering it first, and I don’t have to push through that this time before I get overwhelmed.  The distress I have been in once discharged from RBH, heavier (zero behaviours, litres of fluid replacement, but deemed unacceptable) has been bad.  Seriously contemplating self-harm level-bad (having not done it in a year that’s a big deal).  And that’s just fluid weight from being rehydrated.

And I’m really scared.  I’ve gained weight before a couple of times and that was okay, but I wasn’t sub-15 then (I hit 14.3 in 2014 but it was a hit-and-bounce, I spent no appreciable time under 15).  So I can’t see a solution anywhere.  Confession, my sleep got in a mess, so I did a bit of med meddling to try and sort.  It didn’t work out quite as intended, I’ve currently been awake 39 hours and not thinking about sleep quite yet, but I accelerated into hypomania which peaked about 2 hours ago.  I wound up using the mental electricity and the leaping thoughts to do a bit of introspective poking around and prising apart and digging further.  I knew I’ve got real issues SOMEWHERE, it’s not body image or self-esteem or proper nutrition therapy I have issues with, and I knew it couldn’t just be reluctance to increase pain levels.  This is the result.  I’m emotionally exhausted and all cried out and just gonna curl up and be gentle with myself for a bit.

Eleanor Rigby

I used to have so many different mental projections of myself over my life.  When I was younger, different possibilities sprung up at every opportunity – I could see myself how I wanted to be, as what I wanted to be, “when I grow up”.  Over the past five years, I have had to reel in those possibilities that I had developed into goalposts.  Some of them I’ve abandoned completely.  Those ones I tend to pack up and put away and not think about very much because it feels that in abandoning those goals I have abandoned a part of myself.  And without goals, how can I say who I am?  How can I know who I am, how can I define myself?

Sometimes it’s the smaller things that make me think.  Today it was a post on Facebook by an American friend about adoption.  My instinct was to comment saying that I really wanted to foster older kids who’d been in care and had been pretty screwed over, and five years ago that was a concrete goal.  Get my degree, do the pre-reg, get some work, get doing what I can.  A couple of years ago it was a solid “I’d like to…”  And now – well, I’m failing on many different levels to even look after myself and my living space and to organise my finances and my life, and that’s before we even look at the impact that my physical issues have had on my mental health (and how that then circles back to affect me physically).  It sucks, but that’s life, and it’s easier to just accept it and pack it all up into a box, stamp it with ABANDONED and put it away with all the rest than it is to even think about challenging the “I can’t”s that led to it becoming abandoned in the first place.

So here I am, 27 years old, at 3am on a Sunday morning.  I’m sitting/lying on the sofa and I’m sat here wondering where the hell all my goals went.  I literally cannot think of anything I have or anything I do where I can mentally project myself into the future and make a goal.  I have no idea what I want to achieve – I have no idea what I’m CAPABLE of achieving, and I suspect self-sabotage will step up nicely to ensure I never find out – probably for the best.  I want to make a difference – I’m passionate about so many political issues in the news at the moment (immigration, refugees, disabled rights, government corruption and taxes and MPs’ expenses, cuts cuts cuts) – but there’s nothing I can actually do, bar sharing posts on Facebook and signing online petitions, that can have any impact whatsoever.  I could start volunteering with Communicare when I’m well enough and see where that goes, but it doesn’t excite me – it makes my face turn into some kind of frowny knot and makes me anxious because I might not be able to help.

So right now – back to the original question – how do I define myself, when I don’t even know what’s possible and what I want?

Pieces of Me

I’ve been seeing posts around, here and there, online and in real life.  They’re becoming more and more frequent, as the conversation around mental health has opened up and more and more people have been drawn into the conversation.  Everyone these days knows about depression, everybody knows about anxiety.  Everybody knows what self-harm is.

Self-harm.  Must have been ’01 when I first start cutting myself.  I was in year 8, it was the end of a rough academic year emotionally, and my anxiety (which I was incapable of recognising ’til several years later) was sky high.  I had depression, I had Asperger’s but nobody knew so I had no support or explanation.  I thought I was fat but tried to pretend I didn’t care, and I couldn’t cut myself some slack when my body’s performances weren’t up to scratch.  I had end of year exams in which I had to excel but I ‘wasn’t allowed’ to work for them (no idea where that part came from.  Had that since year 5 when I couldn’t use paper provided to answer maths problems and lost marks as a result, seem to remember I got a bollocking).  So yeah, I was a stressed and distressed 12 year old kid who started cutting themselves.

And it carried on, and the whole eating disorder thing was rolling happy, and I wound up in FF#1 in 2005, and I had sharps taken from me and I gained 14kg in 6 weeks, and I burned the backs of my wrists with my 220-deg. hair straighteners because I HAD to hurt myself because I couldn’t COPE, and it was the best option available.    By 2009 I was being stitched up weekly, I was self-poisoning with aspirin, drinking too much, and into hospital I went.  And when I came out, the damage being done just escalated further and further along with the eating disorder.

My body is a wreck.  The whole EDS thing too, I keloid scar.  My right outside forearm has had a bit of a hacking and has been most obviously affected by burning in that there’s very obvious ‘banding’ nearer my elbow from scar tissue constriction, and the inside again has silvery burn scars.  Right upper arm has a couple of short keloids but nothing major.  I have a scar along my cheekbone, and a few on my chest which are visible but not comparatively noteworthy.  I think I’ve a couple around my hipbones and some on my upper thighs, more nearer ankles and feet but who really looks there?

My left arm is a tornado of scars.  The back of my hand is too scarred to show the veins (despite my other hand being transparent) from all the cigarette burns.  The outside is a total mesh of scars, stitched over and over and over, cuts that have gone the full way around.  There’s a huge vertical keloid ploughing down from elbow to wrist, and it’s that one people tend to ask about.  There’s scar tissue continuing up the upper arm; there have been many burns over the inside of the forearm as well as a couple of other more random cuts, and moving my hand shows the inelasticity of the scarred skin.

I’m trying to write this as objectively as possible.  I’ve not written this with any emotion, and that’s my point.

These posts I’ve been seeing, they’re all about how to cover/hide the scars from self-harm.  I can’t help but feel somewhat perplexed about this.  I feel like I’m expected to be ashamed of my scars, and want to cover them or hide them in any way I can.  I say screw that shit.  They’re my arms, they’ve been attached to my body for 15 years since I started chopping at them despite my very best efforts and I see them thousands of times a day – they are what they are, and they’re my arms.

 

 

 

Machines

I would dig a thousand holes to lay next to you
I would dig a thousand more if I needed to
I look around the grave, for an escape route of old routines
There doesn’t seem to be any other way

Cos I’ve started falling apart, I’m not savouring life
I’ve forgotten how good it could be, to feel alive

Crazy as it sounds you won’t feel as low as you feel right now
At least that’s what I’ve been told by everyone
I whisper empty sounds in your ear and hope that you won’t let go

Take the pieces and build them skywards

I’ve started falling apart, I’m not savouring life
I’ve forgotten how good it could be, to feel alive

Take the pieces and build them skywards
Take the pieces and build them up to the sky.

Oh, Amy.  I miss you, I miss you SO much.  I’ve had a lot of flashbacks to some of the best days of my life.  I don’t know what you’d say to me, I’m so different now, I don’t think you’d even recognise me.  And that hurts.  I miss you.  I never got to your funeral, I never got to say goodbye.  I didn’t get to see your headstone.  And I miss you so much.  I miss you so much.

Why I’d Rather Die Than Vote Tory

So I’ve not posted here in forever.  Been busy being ill, and it’s led me to have an interest in politics.

The Tories preach about austerity and filling the deficit, and are taking it from people who need it to survive.  Welfare absolutely CANNOT afford to have further cuts, and actually more money needs to be put toward helping the most vulnerable in our society.  As well as the absolutely horrific sanctions that are happening, it’s happening for literally absolutely anybody who doesn’t adhere to the whole Jobseeker’s / signing on (for example, a man who had gotten a job that was scheduled to begin in two weeks’ time was sanctioned for not looking for work as he waited for the role to start) – please take a look here http://dwpunspun.org.uk/sanctions – I know it’s going to be biased but these are actual truths, amongst the mumsnet sources, from MPs, broadsheets, Citizens’ Advice. 40% of current welfare spending is on working age benefits, and the majority of people who receive benefits are employed but unable to support themselves because the minimum wage is below the poverty line (statistic from http://dwpunspun.org.uk/sanctions ). Furthermore, this link http://www.theguardian.com/…/mps-inquiry-five-things…gives information such as it being accepted that being sanctioned will cause one’s health to suffer, and if you’re already ill it can be catastrophic. there are pressures on the Jobcentre staff to find reasons to sanction claimants.

Then if you look at people who receive Employment and Support Allowance, it is split into two groups. One group is for the people who are not going to be able to work anytime soon – fortunately for me, I’ve been in receipt of that for 2007 (originally for my mental health problems, but now my body is just too unreliable for me to be working). The other group is a ‘work-related activity’ group which used to be where people who are likely to improve were placed. Now, people are being placed into that group when it is completely inappropriate – take this link for cancer patientshttp://www.macmillan.org.uk/…/FailedByTheSystemReport.pdf – and this explains about other illnesses or conditionshttp://www.independent.co.uk/…/thousands-with… . Too tired now to say any more but my point is made.

I am aware there is a massive deficit and we as a country are heavily in debt, and this needs to be dealt with, and I know that it’s cold, hard fact. But do you know the quickest and easiest way to reduce the deficit? No more tax breaks for the rich. No more bankers’ bonuses. In terms of bankers, let’s take a look herehttp://www.scriptonitedaily.com/…/rbs-bankers-guilty…/ . Yes it will be a biased site, but the cold hard facts are indisputable. Then further down, real accounts of real people who have died due to sanctions and being assessed as ‘fit to work’. Oh, and no more claiming for 38-pound breakfasts (Iain Duncan Smith I am looking at you and fantasising about breaking your face). ”MPs’ staff, travel and accommodation costs reached £103 million last year, up from £99 million the previous year and £95 million in 2009” and I’ve even chosen a right-wing-biased source http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/mps-expenses/ . Imagine a cake cut into 20 slices. A vulnerable person takes one slice. The banker takes the other 19 and tells the average income-related tax payer that the vulnerable person has stolen their slice.  I like cake, I don’t like the fat-from-fois-gras-and-cognac banker, and I don’t like seeing other people literally starving to death.  And if I had a choice between voting for the Conservatives, or starving to death as a result of being deemed ‘Fit to Work’ or unfairly sanctioned, I would be begging to starve to death rather than support the people who are essentially socially cleansing our society.

And between the sand and stone, could you make it on your own?

Been months since I’ve actually written my own post.  The last one, from April, was shared.  I thought the quotation marks made it clear but upon rereading no – they aren’t my words and I don’t actually know to whom I owe credit.

Right now?  What’s happening with me?

I had to quit uni.  Quit, as in completely withdraw.  I got the power chair, Harvey, and he has helped SO SO SO much.  However, he can’t do a damn thing about POTS, and whilst he has seriously reduced pain and fatigue a huge amount, it’s not enough to manage a full-time Pharmacy course.  Not if I’m going to be needing to build on this year, next year.  Right now I have no real marketable skills which work with my physical limitations.

Today I have been so exhausted that I had to be helped to drink fluids before I had the energy to get a fork with mash to my face.  This was sweet potato mash with mildly-marinated chicken legs, not like I was being fed parsnips and kipper.

It’s safe to say, I’m terrified of what the next five years will bring.  I was horrified by the election result – the community in which I exist.  My headspace has been a lot better.  My mood has been within a decent range for well over a year – okay, sometimes it’s gone a bit toooo much one way, but I’ve corrected that myself, I’m being responsible with taking the appropriate medication.  But on the other hand, my body is crumbling.  It’s getting worse and worse, and very quickly.  This time last year, I’d just been aware of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and that it was something I potentially have, as I’d made a new friend online who was posting awareness information and I realised it sounded a bit too familiar.  4 months after that I was using a mobility scooter, and now I’m in an astronautical-level power chair (called Harvey, Harvey Wallbanger to be completely accurate!).

It’s got to the point my eating disorder issues don’t even really register anymore.  That would be fine, and for a while I was well chuffed – but –

More and more I am finding myself feeling inadequate.  When I feel inadequate, I feel like a waste of space and air and food.  And then I see a MAHOOSIVE girl crush (Irene Adler, ”the Woman”, the dominatrix from Sherlock – A scandal in Belgrave) and I start thinking, well a couple of kilos won’t hurt.

And then it starts getting feedback from my physical self.  LOL yes am I going to be able to take care of myself and then fight the wankers out in the world who voted Tory!!!’  Nooooooooo.  And at the end of the day I care more about the poor, disabled, sick, elderly, etc. people in my society than I do about my own skin, so it’s really not a hardship to not take care of myself as much as I ‘should’ take care of my relatively worthless life, to have a bigger impact.

The way this country is going, I am actually shitting my pants.  Or, I would be, if I wasn’t on a buttload of opiates.

I do wish though that is wasn’t the case, that this level of unrest has focused my attention on relosing that lazy, slovenly, ambivalent weight I’ve picked up.

While we still have a long way to go in terms of understanding Eating disorders, I believe we have progressed.
Many of us get that “Eating disorders aren’t about food or weight” because it’s the number one phrase that gets shouted from the rooftops by Eating disorder sufferers & Eating disorder support organisations (for good reason) it was/is such a damaging misconception. But what many people still don’t understand, is what they ARE actually about.

I feel like people avoid talking about what Eating disorders are about because they are SO complex, there are often many, many layers, an accumulation of different factors. It gets complicated. The most common phrase I hear…“I know that Eating disorders aren’t about food or weight…it’s about control.” Yeah. Often this is the case, the desire for control is hugely common but it’s a terribly over simplified explanation. The reasons behind the disorder are as individual as the sufferer him/herself, so it’s risky territory listing possible causes…But I’m writing this in the hope that it helps to broaden understanding of this illness and to shed some light into some of the darker, less spoken about underlying issues.

It’s not about food or weight…It’s about feeling unsafe in the world. It’s about feeling like we can’t trust anyone, not even ourselves. The Eating Disorder becomes “the reliable one”.

It’s about the feelings we can’t verbalize, that can’t be expressed through words so we try to “say” it with our bodies.

It’s about an extreme, intense feeling of being inadequate.  Like nothing we do or say or feel is “right”. “Not thin enough” often means something more painful to admit. That we are not enough. full stop.

It’s about feeling overwhelmed by life. Like nothing makes sense. Nothing is simple. The Eating Disorder gives us a sense of calm…to an outsider our life may look like it is in absolute chaos but it gives us the false sense of security we so desperately need. Problems that seem too big and complicated to deal with, feelings that are uncomfortable to sit with; the Eating Disorder provides us with simple, concrete answers to our distress. Our bodies are the problem and we need to fix the problem by losing weight.

It’s about needing to feel loved and comforted but feeling unworthy of real love and comfort. It’s about hating having needs and desires. For some of us, needs make us feel greedy and selfish. For some of us, having needs means we can easily get hurt if those needs are not met. For some of us, we don’t believe we deserve to have our needs met. We try to convince ourselves that we don’t need anything by avoiding food, one of our greatest primal needs.

It’s about having low self esteem. It’s about more than that, it’s about self hatred. A self hatred that could be there for another huge list of reasons. Our trust may have been broken by a loved one, we may have been abused: emotionally, physically, sexually. We may have done things we deeply regret. We may blame ourselves for painful experiences that have happened in our lives. We may not even know why that self hatred is there but we feel it in our core. It’s something so deep down, something in us that we believe to be dark, dangerous and disgustingly horrible. We believe we are “bad” people and deserve to be punished. We starve, purge, binge and excessively exercise because we feel like we deserve to die a slow and painful death. We deserve this miserable life.

It’s about debilitating anxiety and/or depression that we struggle to deal with so we use the Eating Disorder to cope. Some of us spend years swinging between depression and the Eating Disorder, when one gets better, the other gets worse.

It’s about being paralysed by perfectionism. In every sense of the word. Many of us have obsessive compulsive personalities and expectations that are so high we constantly feel like we are failing. We put ridiculous amounts of pressure on ourselves to be “the best”. We compare ourselves to everyone around us and constantly feel like we are falling behind.

It’s about the disgust we have for our bodies. Some of us have been teased and shamed for our weight by kids in the school yard, brothers or sisters, mothers or fathers. Some of us feel embarrassed by our changing bodies as we go through puberty. Some of us blame our bodies for acts of violation committed against us. Somehow, our bodies have betrayed us.

It’s about the environment we grew up in. Some of us grew up witnessing the messy divorce of our parents, some of us experienced the death of an important loved one, some of us were foster children, moved from household to household. Some of us were bullied for being poor or bullied for being rich. Some of us grew up in chaotic households. For some of us, our parents were distant, for others our parents were overbearing and overprotective.

It’s about secrecy and silence. We are all silently screaming for something. Love, help, escape, forgiveness, support, comfort. We use our bodies and behaviours to communicate instead of our voices.

It’s about fear. We are afraid of growing up, afraid of staying young. Afraid of our future, afraid of our past. Some of us are afraid of failure, some of us are afraid of success. Afraid of being too much or not enough. Some of us are scared we will not be brilliant or amazing or unique or rich or famous or inspiring or important or seen…or LOVED. We are afraid we will never find someone who will love us, unconditionally and some of us are afraid we will. Some of us are afraid of both. It’s these contradictions that can make life so confusing and scary and difficult to deal with.

It’s about holding onto something that gives us an identity. We are afraid that without the Eating Disorder, we are nothing. In some weird way, we think it makes us strong. We believe our Eating Disorder masks our fear, our shame, our vulnerability. The things, we believe, make us weak.

It’s about painful feelings and our belief that we are unable to deal with them so we use the Eating Disorder to numb the sadness, anger, hurt, shame, guilt, hopelessness, fear etc.

It’s about being an extremely sensitive soul. We feel things deeply and intensely. We are effected by others emotions easily and often take on their pain. Others feelings and problems become ours. We are emotionally reactive, we cry at the drop of a hat, the daily news makes our heart hurt and our mood plummet. We take things personally and over think E V E R Y T H I N G. We feel the weight of the world on our shoulders, like it is our responsibility to save it (the world).

It’s about subconsciously internalising the “Western Beauty Ideal” we are faced with day in day out. It’s about being bombarded with advertising that is constantly telling us we are not good enough.

It’s about loneliness. Like we don’t fit in or belong anywhere. Like no one understands us. Like we are somehow completely different to the rest of the human population. It doesn’t matter how many friends or family we have around us, this is a loneliness, an emptiness that we believe cannot be filled.

It’s about survival. It helped us to survive and cope with some horrific and painful life experiences.

It’s about being passive. Many of us, put others first at a huge cost to our own health and happiness. We say yes when we mean no and no when we mean yes. We struggle with being assertive and as a result often get taken advantage of. This only feeds into our unworthiness.

It’s about privacy, having something that is ours and only ours. Something no one else can touch.

It’s not about weight, but for some of us, it is. However, not in the way you’d think. Some of us want to shrink so that we become invisible. We want to become as small as we feel. We want to hide away. Our shrinking body becomes a metaphor for our shrinking soul. Some of us, want to become bigger so we can hide behind our weight. So that our body fat becomes our protection. So we become “undesirable” to men or women. So we don’t have to face relationships or intimacy or our sexuality. Things that terrify us. Our bodies reflect how we feel about ourselves on the INSIDE. What drains our spirit, drains our body.

It’s about being in so much emotional pain that you can’t even begin to allow yourself to feel it or acknowledge it, the pain the eating disorder brings seems like a blessing in comparison. We use the Eating Disorder to avoid and distract ourselves from all the things that are really going on, inside. More often than not, it’s an accumulation of any number of these thoughts, feelings, beliefs and experiences and there is bound to be plenty of other influencing factors that I haven’t listed. Everyone is different.This is just a list of some of the more common causes that I know of from experience living with my own Eating Disorder and being close to many others who have Eating disorders, it is by NO means the ‘absolute’ list.

Please also know that insight into these reasons takes time in therapy and a lot of self reflection and personal development…a sufferer doesn’t make a conscious decision to develop an Eating Disorder so they can avoid feeling emotional pain, for example. This is all going on subconsciously. The Eating Disorder masks all of this and convinces us that our only problem is that we are fat.

So if someone you care about is struggling with an Eating Disorder, instead of telling them to “just eat”, ask them what they believe is behind their Eating Disorder and don’t take “I’m just fat” as a valid answer…because that is NEVER the answer. No matter how strongly they feel that in the moment, it almost always goes much deeper than that.

Help us stop the silence. Let’s start talking about this on a deeper, less superficial level. One of the most important steps towards recovery involves allowing us to explore and express our own personal stories. We need to understand why we have developed an Eating Disorder and how it serves us before we have any hope of true recovery.”

Times Square can’t shine as bright as you

I miss you Lisa.  I miss you Amy.  I miss you Jay.  I miss you Karen-Ann.  Louise, Tierney, another Lisa, Emily, Dawn, Shivani.

I still hold so much grief over Lisa.  Big sisters are meant to take care of their little sisters, and I fucked up, and I can’t do anything to make it right.  I can’t undo it.  I couldn’t say the right thing to give her some more hope and a reason to live, and to know how much she meant and how wanted and loved she was.  I remember her funeral.  I hadn’t really slept in a week and I’d lost a tonne of weight.  Amy’d come to the funeral too, they’d been quite close, and Amy and I had shared rooms for a while until she went up to the PD unit and I left.  I’d called her to let her know.  She came to support me and we picked up right where we’d gotten lost.  The funeral though, I was doubled over with great wracking sobs.  She just held my hand and got me through.  My old psych was there, was good to see her, she got my sense of humour, but I wished she had seen me looking less awful.  Amy was my rock.  And it took me 9 months to be able to properly cry about losing her.

Amy’s funeral…  I couldn’t make the service, transport issues and severe anxiety.  I was quite doped on diazepam when I arrived, my friend picked me up.  I had a letter from her later saying she didn’t think she could forgive me for how I behaved.  She said I had turned up obviously off my face, and she thought that the real reason I’d been late was because I’d been drinking (which would have meant drinking with breakfast, never been my style), and I’d talked really inappropriately about her death.  Honestly that letter made me feel horrible, but once I’d got past the upset I was angry – so many judgements which were untrue.  Maybe she didn’t like some of the things that I said, but all I was saying that she’d seemed so peaceful and she must have just slipped away quietly, and I was saying it because I was struggling one hell of a lot and it was giving me some comfort.

I had another letter from the same friend earlier in the year.  More judgements.  My drinking in uni for pain relief was either me lying to other people or to myself.  I’ve ‘collected’ a lot of sick friends, and all I post about are my hamsters, politics or fangirl stuff and she thinks that’s just boring and dreary.  I know I have an alcohol problem, I’ve had it since I was in Newcastle after Jay’s aunt had hung herself, and she took a month’s worth of my fluoxetine.  I’d not freak out now, but this was my first experience with overdoses and I felt like I’d done the equivalent of forgetting to use a fire grate with a crawling baby, I knew she had taken overdoses before but had still left them lying about.  Likewise, I do have a lot of friends who have chronic illnesses.  I was introduced to C as she was in a similar situation with not managing uni because of being unwell and she was quite isolated too, but she is the only person I’ve become friends with due to them having a chronic illness.  But that’s why I drink in the evenings – not in the daytime.  Also, everybody I know with chronic illness has become my friend through the pet community on Facebook.  There’s a lot of small furry owners who have depression/anxiety issues, and then there’s a lot of people with EDS/JHS, ME, fibro, lupus, CP etc.  She also said that I was letting my illness define me because I post a lot – I post a lot because, well, people only generally see me on a better day, as I’ve left the house, so then if I’m not able to do things on other days, or be reliable, then I really want people to know how bad it can get.  And actually having become this sick has been devastating for me.

My anorexia took almost everything away from me.  I clung on as hard as I could to a tiny part of uni, one last straw, and in the process of weight restoration and self-care, plus gentle exercise and ooh, who’s that in the corner, is that progesterone? – my body has been falling apart, literally.  I worked so fucking hard to be well enough to go back to uni and my body fucking betrayed me.

I’ve another friend I’ve made through the pet community, M.  She’s come over to mine for a few days at a time, she’s in NW London.  She has two hamsters called Burrito and Pretzel, and she reminds me a lot of Amy.  I think if she reminded me of anybody else I’ve lost I’d find that really hard (am I replacing them?!) but I don’t get that with Amy.  Before I moved and I was alone in the house, I went to my room and yelled at her, saying I was so pissed off she’d been so inconsiderate as to die in my bloody room.  I wasn’t genuinely mad, and I know she’d totally have laughed.

In other news, I’ve finally braved the dentist!  2 sessions was all I needed in the end.  When he did x-rays, he came back several shades paler, I’d told him it hadn’t been comfortable but wasn’t PAINFUL, and I do have a lot of pain which kinda overrides it.  Anyway, he told me I’d really not been kidding, had I.  So then he gave me 9 fillings.  My last visit, the unsalvageable tooth had completely crumbled (so that’s surgery for me!), he did some extensive root canal work, and then filled the rest of my mouth.  Not sure how many but double-digits, and he didn’t use local, and I was fine.

Finally getting around to thank you letters for my birthday…  New printer sorted.

I feel completely empty some of the time and it sucks.  It just really sucks.

#50Acts #5 #6 #7 #8

Sorry, been a while.

#5 was about sustainability and Fairtrade.  I shop at the Co-op anyway, but have pledged to boycott Nestle.  No more Cheerios!

#6 was about thankfulness.  Actually, it was a rough day for me, for reasons to be shown.  I said thank you many times to many friends. but I also did it officially by thanking my neighbours for looking out for me and feeding me when my regular food-source was on holiday 😀

#7 was about letting go of possessions.  I’ve bagged up the clothes I am not going to wear again (bar 2 pairs of trousers which have so many memories attached)

#8 – valuing someone enough to be on time.  I was late to a couple of meetings and I felt bad about it, as I always do.  Next time I will plan to leave more time.  That is the best I can do.

I got this late earlier and was late to

#40acts #4

This one is surprising by device.

I have a zebra friend, with zebra kids.  They’ll be getting interesting post, whilst their going through a tough time as the older child is in intensive rehab for her Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.

On a personal note, I wish mine would fuck the hell off.  I’m either too tired to even breathe properly, so dizzy I will pass out whilst sitting down, or in so much pain I cannot process a jumble of sounds into words, sentences, phrases.

ETA. – Bought a good card will post.  Also securing a couple of toys for both of the kids