This year has been the worst year of my life. When the clock strikes midnight tonight I will be glad to see the back of 2017. It’s been awful. Horrendous. Disastrous and turbulent. It’s been hell. I’ve taken three overdoses and ended up in a&e each time. 3 times ive tried to take my life. 3 times I failed. I was never terrified it never scared me at all in fact. I still have the suicidal thoughts. On a daily basis. But I’m learning to deal with them better. I also ended up back in a&e with my anorexia. My heart was beating dangerously low I was lucky to be alive and walking. On top of all of that I have then had 2 hospital admissions and a 7 month stint as an inpatient in an eating disorder unit. What makes it worse is even though I’ve spent 7 months in hospital and put weight on mentally I’m still the same and want to lose weight so it feels like a complete waste of time. Yes hospital saved my life but when you don’t want to live anyway it’s hard to see that as a plus.
If all of that wasn’t enough I had a relationship breakdown. It wasn’t just any old break up. It was harder than that. It was awful. It was Complicated. We were meant to spend the rest of our lives together. Married with children. But it wasn’t meant to be. Only now 8 months on does it feel like it’s finally over. I’m not sure if I believe there is one person out there for yourselves. But if there is. Then I’ve lost mine. We were soulmates we were the couple people look and get jealous. But We were only great when we were good and disastrous when we were bad. And if all that wasn’t enough to throw at me a very close friend of mine died. Which destroyed me. I was left feeling guilty. Broken. Lost and a mess.
My life really can’t get much worse. Every day ana shouts at me. She’s been through all of this with me. She’s caused the problems. If I didn’t have her this year would have been totally different. I’d probably be engaged, I’d probably be moved out, I’d be smiling, I’d be happy, I wouldn’t be writing this. But instead I sit here on my own alone on New Year’s Eve writing this and looking back on how I have had the year from hell. Right now I can’t see how 2018 will be any better. I want to believe it will be but I’m struggling. All I know is that at the strike of midnight 2017 can do one. It’s nearly killed me. Several times. It’s been the year from hell. The worst year ever.
One word. That’s how I feel, alone. Lonely. Lost. Depressed. But above all alone.
How can one person feel so alone in a world full of people. It’s overwhelming. All consuming. It’s all feel all day every day.
And Tonight as I fall asleep I’m wishing i never wake up
In less than a week I get discharged home and I’m terrified. I should be excited but I’m not. I’m filled with dread. Uncertainty. Nerves and lost hope. I’m dreading all aspects of it. I’m Dreading the home life, worrying it will go back to how it was before. Dreading my new job, doubting if I’m ready and dreading food. Dreading eating out of my “safe” environment of the hospital , I’m worried my mum and Dad are going to push me to eat and I’ll fall out with them because I’m not. It’s not there responsibility to eat it’s mine and let’s be honest. We all know the weights going to fall off and I’ll start restricting. And I’m worried it will effect our relationship . I’m worried about being alone and having no one who understands nearby, no one nearby at all in fact.
I’ve become so comfortable with the hospital setting that anything else seems so scary. I should be excited. I should be looking forward to it. I should feel happy. But I don’t. And I don’t understand. I know no matter how hard I try that the my weight will drop. Even if I don’t restrict there’s no way I’ll be able to eat the right amount to gain. Let alone maintain. Even if I wanted to. No one seems to understand my struggle and yes physically I’ve put weight on but mentally I’m no where near ready to be discharged. Mentally I’m messed up and see myself as fat and heavy. Greedy and not deserving of food. Wanting to skip meals to lose weight to see my bones again. The fact of the matter is I’m losing weight in hospital and there discharging me. It’s like there setting me up to fail. I don’t want this life. I don’t want to be in and out of hospital all my life. I want to be able to move out and get my own place. I want to be able to have a relationship and have children. Get married and be happy. I want to live a life free of anorexia. I want to just live but I don’t know how to. And why I’m still so weak mentally I don’t stand a chance in fighting this. I’m waiting for that light bulb moment that things will change and I’ll want to eat. After all what does it matter what size I am? What I’ve eaten all day? If my thighs touch. Who cares. Why should it matter. Why should it control my life?
Does anyone else have a problem with drink? For as long as I can remember I’ve restricted my fluid intake. To me drink, even water is food. And bloats me. Fills me up. And makes me fat.
Today I was so dehydrated that my sats were dropping and they weren’t letting me out of the ward for a walk. I just don’t drink. And I know this will carry on when I’m discharged. I can go all day without a drink and never feel thirsty. Drinking anything scares me and my head calculates it as food. So if i drink I then restrict food more. I can’t win. I just want to restrict.
Yesterday I posted a comparison picture online and it got several likes and comments. About how I look much better now etc etc but why does part of me want to look like the girl in the right. Why can’t I take those comments on board and listen to what there saying. Why is there still a voice in my head telling me I should look like the girl before I was admitted. I can however recognise this is the illness speaking but still I don’t know how to ignore it. And how to move on. I’ll post the picture here so you can see. I’m going to look at it every day and look at the comments people left and hopefully soon it will start to sink in that it’s ok to look how I look now and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You can see how far I’ve come and how much progress I’ve made. I’m just worried that the moment I leave all the work I’ve put in will be undone and I’ll go backwards. But I’ll guess we will have to just wait and see. And take it day by day minute by minute
So I feel like things are just getting harder. The closer I’m getting to my discharge date the harder things are coming. I’m skipping breakfast every day and struggling to pick off the hospital menu instead opting for a low calorie ready meal. I’m not able to put weight on and it feels like the hospital have given up. They’ve noticed I’ve lost weight but that’s all they’ve done really. It feels like they don’t care. I feel like there setting me up to fail. If I can’t at least maintain my weight in hospital how on earth am I able to maintain or put weight on when I leave. I had 5 Days leave and lost 1kg. Imagine what that will be like when I go home. I’ll be losing 1-2kg a week. My weight is just going to fall off. But part of me wants that. Ana is telling me that’s the right thing to do and I’m finding it hard ignoring her. How do I block her out? How do I get on with my life? How do I live not controlled by numbers and food? When will she disappear? I don’t think she ever will. I think I’m going to live with her for the rest of my life. I just have to get used to blocking out the voices and living a life without her. But I don’t know how to or where to start. I’m scared. I’m scared of life without her. Life with her gives me a purpose and meaning. Life without her I then have nothing. I’m alone, lost, single and fat. That’s how I see myself. Yesterday I was asked to say one positive thing about myself and I couldn’t. I couldn’t find one thing. This year has been the worst of my life and part of me hates that ana failed. Anas Job was to kill me and end my life but she failed. I got stronger and managed to get a grip on her but part of me wishes I hadn’t. Part of me wishes I never got admitted to hospital and that Ana had killed me. As life with her now is so hard and no one understands. Life with her is horrible. It’s horrendous. Every day is a battle. And daily struggle. And I feel like I’m slowly losing it and she’s taking Control again
So today my Home leave was over. Today I had to go back to the hospital. Today I had to be weighed. Today was also ward round day. And the day I had my first date in months. First things first. Weigh In. “Do you want to see you weight” the nurse says. Yes I reply. I have to. I need to know. I need the reassurance that my weight hasn’t rocketed. I need to know what I am. How heavy I am. How fat I am. How much I’ve put on. I need to know. The outcome…I’ve lost. And a fair bit. I’ve lost 1kg in less than a week. 1kg In 5 days. But they don’t seem concerned. They bring it up in ward round. They comment on it. They say I’ve lost weight and can’t have eaten much but they don’t really seem to care. I know they’ve just given up on me. They really have. And I don’t know what to do. Where to turn. Anything. I’m clueless. There upping my meds as there not seeing the results they were hoping for and say I need to take more care of myself and get the weight back I’ve lost but that’s it. Im cast aside as normal. Forgotten about. Not taken seriously. I nap the day away after this. Feeling low. Depressed. Alone and lost. Skipping dinner altogether as I have a date and it’s the perfect way out of eating. The date goes well. But who I am kidding. It’s not going to develop. Who would want to be with someone like me. Who can’t even eat. We should have had dinner out due to the time but didn’t as I couldn’t. I’m messed up. I’m broken. I’m destined to be alone. Today I also made a comparison picture which I’ll post below and I can’t help thinking I’d like to look the girl on the left again. Not how I look now. When will this stop. When will this end.
So I did it. I ate Christmas dinner. I ate unknown calories. I had a proper meal. Yes it may have been on the smaller size but I still did it. I felt greedy though as I was the only one to finish my dinner. I know it’s because they had so much more than me but it stills plays on my mind. I wanted to eat. I wanted a chocolate, a mine pie, a Sausage wrapped in bacon. But I couldn’t. I can’t. As I’m writing this all I want is a chocolate. I’m hungry. I’m starving. I want some cake. So sugar. So treat. But I can’t. I won’t. It’s a horrible feeling. I’m looking at people eating cakes and drinking lattes and I want that but it’s not possible. Today is my last day of leave and I’m dreading tomorrow. Going back to the hospital. Being weighed. The lonliness. The four walls of my room. The food. Everything. I know I can officially start the count down to discharge but at the same time I’m dreading that too. How does that make sense? I’m dreading going back to hospital but I’m dreading discharge. My mind is constantly Confused. It’s at battle with its self all day every day. I hate being in hospital but at the same time it’s become “comfortable” I’ve become institutionalised. It’s my “safe place” to eat. It’s where it’s acceptable to have meals and not feel too guilty. And that’s the reason I’m dreading discharge. I will feel guilty after every meal. I won’t be surrounded by people who know how I feel. In a sense I’ll be even more alone. But at the same time I can’t wait to be discharged so I can restrict. How Confusing is that. I want it but I don’t. See what my mind has to deal with on a daily basis. It’s stuck. It’s broken. It’s muddled up. It doesn’t know what it wants. That’s why I would be better off not being here. I’m going to disappoint all of my family. They think I’m better but when they realise I’m just dying to lose weight and restrict they’ll be disappointed. At the moment there proud of me and proud of how far I’ve come. But soon they’ll see I’m a fraud and be disappointed in me. They’ll not understand. They’ll feel I’ve let them down. Like I’ve failed them. They’ll think I’m choosing this. And it may sound like I am but believe me I’m not. I don’t have a chose. I’mBeing controlled. Ana is there. Right behind me. Every step of the way. She tells me what to do. All day. Every day. My life isn’t mine. It’s ana’s and right now I don’t know how to get rid of her. I don’t know how to start living my life without her. I don’t know how to get mine back. I’m nothing to be proud of. I’m a waste of space. I waste of everything. I’m a failure. Floored. Broken. Messed up. Damaged goods. And I always will be
Christmas is a time for family and friends to celebrate. To laugh, to play games, to share stories, to smile, to drink, to be there for one another and feel loved , to feel wanted, to feel part of something. Everyone wants to feel included. Everyone wants to feel that special warmth you get when your all together sharing the good times. But this Christmas spare a thought for the people with no one. Spare a thought for those who are lonely and don’t have people to share this special day with. Who just act like Christmas is just any other day. Who have no one. Spare a thought for them. I for one know what it’s like to feel alone. I’ve spent my whole life and especially these last 7 months feeling alone. Yes I have an amazing family but they can’t be there all the time. I have one friend and again she can’t be there all the time. So most days I have this overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I’m longing to have that special someone to share all my moments with, who’s there at the other end of the phone no matter what. Who loves me for me. I know I have my family. Who I love dearly and I’m so grateful for but I can still feel alone so I know what it’s like. This Christmas Im lucky and got leave and I’m spending it with family. However some aren’t as lucky and lll be there thinking of them. Thinking of those who have no one. I wouldn’t wish being alone on anyone. It’s one of the most loneliness, saddest, empty feelings ever. So to those who are alone this year. Happy Christmas from me. I’mThinking of you.
So it’s Christmas Eve. My second Christmas with this horrible illness. The day of the Christmas dinner looming. The unknown calories. The dread, the panic, the constant worry. Not wanting to eat it but not being able to get away without eating out. The anxiety. The uncertainty. Because I’m near my discharge date I feel my family (some of them) assume that means I’m recovered and well. But in actual fact the hard work had only just begun. They don’t see what the fuss about tomorrow is. They don’t understand. But there’s me. Struck down with anorexia watching people eat what they want, when they want. Grabbing a chocolate here and there, munching on sausage rolls and crisps. While I’m stuck in my routine sticking firmly to my plan. Expect for the big dreaded Christmas dinner. They don’t understand the dread I have for this. The unknown calories I’ll be consuming. Dreading weigh in day. Knowing I’ll have put weight on. This Christmas Day my illness has a name. Last Christmas it wasn’t diagnosed but it was still a struggle and still remains a struggle. When will life me normal? When will I be able to put my hand in a tub of chocolates and eat one? When will I be able to bake and eat what I’ve made? When will I be able to not count numbers? When? Today I went for a walk and all I could see was how fat my thighs were. Bursting out of my jeans. Touching the other one, barely able to see my feet.I’m no longer able to see my hip bones they’ve disappeared. Covered in fat. That’s how I measure myself. By fat.
Today I sat in a coffee shop with my plain black coffee people watching. Families came in, loved upCouples came in, playful children, old friends and they all looked like the didn’t have a care in the world. They ordered there hot chocolates covered with cream and sprinkles, or large lattes and cappuccinos without worrying about asking for skinny milk. No one cared. They sat there and enjoyed them, scooped the cream off, scraped the glass for the last of the drink, eating the marshmallows, ordering seconds. Not caring just living. And I sat there on my own, jealous. Not just jealous that they had company and where laughing, chatting, having a good time but jealous of what they ordered. When will I be able to sit there with a hot chocolate, whipped cream, sprinkles and marshmallows. I can’t even order a skinny latte. I have to just have a black coffee. No calories. Nothing. I’m jealous of everyone. Everyone I see. Not just in the coffee shop. I’m longing to be like them. To be able to pop a chocolate in my mouth without worrying over calories, to be able to go for lunches and dinners and not get anxious. To live a life normally. I’m jealous I’m
Envious, I want there life. My life is full of numbers, thinking of food and calories every second of every day. Planning the next meal I can skip, buying laxatives, adding up the numbers as I go. I’m controlled by Ana. She dictates how my day is and what I do. She dictated my mood she controls me. It’s like I’m just a robot and she’s my maker. She tells me what to do. She instructs me. Without her I’m nothing. Without her I don’t know how to live. I only know life with her. I’m only able to imagine life without her. Living through other people’s lives. Watching people smile and enjoy themselves. I’m only able to watch and imagine.