No hope

I’ve done the psych admission, I’ve done the self-harm, I’ve done the overdosing and I’m still here. Still here, still sad, still hurting. I don’t think I can keep going much longer. I’m meant to inform my Mum when I’m “code red” (psycho babble for ready to top myself) but I just feel such a nuisance having to walk down the hallway and tell her I’m code red x 100. I just want to purge and purge which I did all afternoon. I feel so full and after having lost a decent amount of weight I am sure I have put it all back on again. I feel full…I want to get rid of that feeling. Last night I resorted to purging in the bin so my parents wouldn’t hear me in the bathroom. I just don’t want this anymore. I want to be thin, in control, and happy. I have the means to do something but I know I won’t because I NEVER do and when I do something I always end up feeling scared at the last minute and telling someone. So I guess I’ll trudge down the hallway and spend the evening attached to my Mum’s side. Just let me take my sleeping meds and get out of this mind

The End of the World

Why does the sun go on shining?

Why does the sea rush to shore?

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world

’cause you don’t love me anymore

Why do the bird’s go on singing?

Why do the stars glow above?

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world

It ended when I lost your love (Skeeter Davis)

Still waiting…

I’m still waiting for a bed on the psych ward…that’s been over a week now. I know they are busy but does anyone think about what it is like trying to muddle along with a head that is driving me crazy. They just keep saying “no bed yet” but no other help or support is offered. Maybe I only become “sick” or in need when the bed actually becomes available.

Self harm is bad, suicidal thoughts chronic and when I follow my crisis plan and phone my consultant he doesn’t phone back. I’m feeling very let down. And yesterday in arts group at the hospital someone kindly announces how I’ve really gained weight and how my face has really filled out. Now I KNOW from the scales that I have gained NO weight but that sort of logic doesn’t matter and I really went mad inside my head. Evil ED voice yells and yells and I’m like a puppet on a string. I had to leave the group and go home and not just leave the group but get my mum to come and collect me from group so I couldn’t go via the chemist for that ever reassuring packet of paracetamol pills. I ended up drugged up on diazepam, freaked out and just went home and crashed.

Today the ED voice yells and yells to keep busy and burn calories and never ever been seen as doing something lazy. I can’t cope!

Dual-diagnosis…nice of them to tell me

Surely one of the most important people to know about their diagnosis is the patient so why is it that I have had a dual diagnosis for as long as prior to my former psych retiring yet no-one bothered to tell me. So now I have not only chronic, extreme anorexia nervosa, I also have Borderline Personality Disorder which I have to admit I know bugger all about except it is the diagnosis no-one wants and seems to equate to attentione seeker or service waster. I wouldn’t have said I was either but hey now they’ve labelled it it must be what they are thinking. So all these times I’ve been trying to explain my distress have they just been writing it off as “oh she’s borderline”. I don’t even really know what it is but I’ve read the criteria and yeah I do have to agree I do fit a good few. I hate this I feel having another diagnosis takes me even further from the dream of living a normal life…of a career, relationship, kids etc. I’m just going to spend my life in therapy searching my soul and becoming even more confused.

Anorexia nervosa was almost “acceptable”, BPD is like the scary they don’t know what to do with me and she will never function normally label. Help me I’m scared

Friendship is a thing of great meaning

I don’t ever want to lose my friends especially K who means more to me than I think sometimes even my family do (and I’m pretty close to my mum). I couldn’t live my life without them, caring about them reminds me that I can still care therefore the anorexia hasn’t taken all from me. I never thought death happened to those of us still young and with our lives ahead of us and then I lost Holly. I found a photo album last night, was flicking through expecting to find photos of my holidays and there we were Holly, me and another few people I love smiling into the camera, all painfully thin and sick but hugging each other like the word depended on it. If only I’d know she only had just over another 18 months left I’d never have let her go. Don’t let me lose people even closer.

I always believed in God, I always went to church so if there is a God up there, spare my friends their misery. They have seen too much too young, they don’t deserve the pain.

Can’t fight the darkness

My head just keeps yelling and yelling. People don’t even give me a second glance in the street (not like with the NG :O ) so I must be pretty able to blend in. I want to be thin, not pretty thin but shockingly thin…the kind of thin that disgusts people and makes them stare in horror. Why I want that I do not know.

 

Well I’m feeling lower than low reduced to vomiting into plastic bags in my room then trying to discretely dispose of them. Missing the bag and trying to scrub the vomit for the carpet with baby wipes because I could hardly go to the kitchen and get a wet cloth and disinfectant while my parents are washing the dishes. I couldn’t vomit in the bathroom because it is right next to the kitchen with paper thin walls and they would have heard. I’ll clean up properly and disinfect etc when the kitchen is clear. And because of the cleaning up mess disaster I don’t even feel I got it all out properly so I just want to go and vomit and vomit and vomit until nothing else comes up. What has this “thing” in my head reduced me to? How much lower can I sink? I eat and all I want to do is purge. All I want to do is eat though…I don’t think I could ever feel full. I didn’t even binge, not by medical definitions I just had something to eat. I hate myself…hate how pitiful all this must sound.

 

Why why why?

 

Why did the doctors not listen to my screams of pain after the overdose on Monday. Why did they just patch me up with some parvalex and send me back out into the hell that still exists? I’m known to mental health services…it’s not like I’m hiding away trying to stay out of their sights.

 

I can’t do this…I just CAN’T! Without my precious BMI of 12 I just can’t function. I want it back and I just can’t get it. I beat myself up and say I’m lazy and greedy but everyone says my intake is horrendous so WHY don’t I lose weight. All this slow metabolism crap is just an excuse for not trying hard enough.

Answers welcome…

Here’s a question…I really wish I knew the answer. My head tells me funny things

Am I ill? If so how ill am I?

Answers on a postcard

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

Well here I am blogging on Christmas day but where else was I going to come to offload when everyone is being merry and bright and support is few and far between…not because people aren’t there but because I won’t contact them on what is supposed to be a happy day. I won’t drag others down with my crappness.

Today has been good as far as Christmas has gone in recent years. I wasn’t in hospital and we were able to have a quiet family Christmas; it was more the stuff in my head that threatened to ruin things. It has been so so tough but I wanted to stay calm for everyone else so with a lot of suppressed feelings, some diazepam and a brave smile I think I have done that.

Presents get to me. I love little random gifts but the overwhelming generosity and kindness of people this year just left me feeling such intense guilt because I didn’t deserve those nice things, people shouldn’t be spending there money on me and I am just so undeserving. The change of routine was hard with lunch/dinner (well my veggies) mid afternoon and drinks all over the place. The only thing that stayed the same was my PEG feed. And all the clutter of presents needing homes, I spent most of the late morning tidying because I can’t just do the stack it in a corner and deal with it tomorrow. Then Christmas dinner which actually this year wasn’t too bad as I didn’t have to watch people indulging and I stuck to some safe veg myself but I did feel obliged to offer help with the clean up and thought I could do dishes until I had my hands in that basin feeling the particles of food and calories dissolving in the water round my hands and the panic was too much. I went onto drying before I freaked out completely. It just all reminds me how f*cked my head really is.

But there have been good times. Time with the family, a quiet walk with Dad and playing Wii with big sister. It hasn’t all been doom and gloom and with some diazepam and a bit of family support I have made it through. A quiet evening snuggled in my new cosy pjs and off to bed after maybe a family DVD and that should be me.

Merry Christmas all!

What to say…what to say?

I could ramble any number of shit paragraphs about Christmas and shoppers and over-full buses and having the cold but I don’t think that is really what you all want to read. The trouble is what I need to say I don’t have the words to put down so I just keep on walking through life as if there wasn’t a thing wrong.

I spent today with F, a relatively new friend who seems to know what is in my head and says it back to me because it is going through her head too…it is always nice to know that I’m not alone and I’m not solely crazy…other people have these thoughts too. I just don’t know what to say though…I know something isn’t right but I don’t feel like I could change it. The urge to cut and purge is strong. I sometimes wonder whether I really want to keep on living in this body of mine which I detest more with each passing day. I wonder what the point of life is if we just get through the days until we become old and die. I see my Granny in hospital making plans to go into a nursing home and I look at all the old people sitting round about her and I think “is this the point to life? Is this where it all leads?”

I want to stay young forever…I want to be Peter Pan and never grow up. But also there is that longing for the things other people my age have – the relationship, the kids, the career…I’m missing out on so much too.  If only I knew what I wanted.

I hate this awful feeling of fatness. I feel it has engulfed me and there is no way of getting out. Day by day I feel my body getting larger and the feelings of fatness squeeze out any chance of a real life that I might once have had. I look in the mirror and I honest to God see rolls of fat. I don’t just say I’m fat so that all of you who know me will turn around and reassure me that I’m thin. When you say I’m thin I think you are lying…I am sure you are only telling me what you think I want to hear because of course no-one is going to actually turn round to me and say “you know what G, yes you are really fat”. I want a body I can feel comfortable in. I want to feel a whole person not just a mind trapped in a body I can’t get out of. It feels like I’m rattling around inside this body but we are two separate things. I almost feel it is just a shell I’m trapped inside.

Well I’ve said something…

Something positive for a change…

I drove today It is the first time I have been allowed behind the wheel in 4 years. I was so nervous but it was a bit like riding a bike…you don’t really forget. There were a few noisy gear changes and some tentative junctions but me, my dad and the car all arrived home in one piece. Oh and I must say thank you very much to the complete arse who decided to drive right on my bumper with full beam headlights…cheers mate!

Other than that I’ve been to the cinema with a friend and her wee boy and come down with a sore throat…yippee the dreaded lurgy just in time for Xmas. Feeling pretty wiped out, and dizzy so think tonight will be a night for Casualty (tv programme that is) and a cosy fleece blanket.