Today’s been awful. I can’t even describe how awful it’s been. There are no words. Today I got threatened which being put under section, today I was confined to my room, not allowed to go out. Today I should have had 2200 calories but instead I haven’t even had 600. Skipping lunch. Skipping desserts and skipping half my breakfast. Of course skipping snack too. Today’s been indescribable . I’ve cried so much I nearly made myself sick. But the worst thing. No one cares. The staff here couldn’t care less. They really couldn’t. And on top of that I have no one to talk to. Yes I have my brother and family but I can’t keep telling them I’m rubbish. They’ll get sick of asking, sick of my response. I want more than anything to fall asleep and not wake up. I really really really do!! A short blog but I just had to get it all out. I had to write it down. Empty my mind of today. I had to tell someone
I’m feeling so lost. So confused. So alone. And so depressed. My mess have changed yet again and I haven’t settled into them to yet. I seem to be up and down. All over the place. This morning I was fine. This afternoon I cross the road without evening looking. This is more than mood swings. Sometimes I think I’m bipolar. I really do. I wish my meds would kick in and we could find some that actually work. But anyone. Enough of that. Back to the title of this blog. Lost. That’s how I feel. I feel completely lost. My discharge date is Coming around just as quick as Christmas is. So, I should feel happy. But I don’t. The nearer it comes. Each day that passes the more dread I’m filled with. Im not excited to leave. Im terrified. Just because I’m leaving people assume I’m recovered. But I’m far from it. In reality recovery has only just begun and this is the hardest step to master. To keep eating when all of me is telling me not to. I should feel happy. If I don’t. I don’t get it. It’s like I’ve become institutionalised to the hospital. I’ve become comfortable. It’s the only place I’ll allow myself to eat. But even in here I’m still struggling with food intake. Each day writing down the calories of everything and trying to consume less each day. It’s like it’s actually getting so much harder the further I go. It should be easier. I should feel excited. But I don’t. I don’t get it. I don’t understand. I just feel so lost. Anorexia is still a massive part of me. It still controls me every day. Still has its grip on me. When will it go? When I jump in front of a train. When I cross the road without looking. Is that the only time I’ll be rid of it?!?!
Today I wished that where I was wasn’t the end of the line. Today I walked into the town and wished the train station was in the middle of a route. Not the end of the line. I wished this so I could jump.
Today I walked through the woods and wished I could hang myself. Looking up at the branches and wishing I had the guts and a belt or something.
Today I had a headache I wanted to hug paracetamol but I stopped myself. As if I did I’d have taken the whole pack.
Today I wished more than once I was dead and that my life would be over. Today I wished it tomorrow I’ll wish it. I’ll wish it every day until it is over. That’s my Christmas wish.
They think I want this. They think I’m choosing this. They think I need to simply stop thinking through the illness. They think I’m giving into it and letting it win. Well I’m not. Who would want this. No one. Who would want to stress about food so much all day every day. Who would want to laxatives if they’ve eaten over a certain amount of Calories. Who wants to check there “thigh gap” every day. Who wants to freeze in front of a plate of food. Unable to pick up the cutlery and burst into tears. Who wants to be controlled by anorexia. Unable to eat an advent chocolate a day. Having to walk so many steps a day. Having to count every single tiny calorie. Having to be on so many different medications. Having the fear of being fat. To the point it terrifies you and disables you. Not being able to enjoy Christmas or meals out. Being controlled and bound by food all day every day. Wanting to kill themselves most days. Being so alone that you have no one. Crying at anything and everything. Being so depressed you want your life over. Who wants all of this. Who would chose all of this. No one. But they think I am. They thinking I’m picking this. They think it’s me choosing this. Well it’s not. I dont want this ive just been given it and I can’t see a way out. They think it’s simple. Just change the way you think. Well it’s not that simple. I’d have done that if it was that simple. I’d have done that ages ago. They have no idea what it’s like to be disabled by depression and anorexia. No idea. So don’t begin to tell me otherwise this isn’t a life I’m living. It’s hell. I am in hell. And I want it all to be over.
Unless you’ve truly experienced loneliness you can’t imagine what it’s like. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be on your own. To sit there and have no one. And yes. I know I have my family. I have a Mum and Dad who care about me and a lovely brother and sister in law. But apart from them it’s just me. I feel like can’t keep bothering them as they have there own lives. So I lay there. Nearly all day. In my hospital bed in hospital desperate for someone to talk to. I’m so desperate it’s awful. I lay there scrolling through dating sites. Messaging random guys as I’m so alone. Striking up conversations which go nowhere but just keep me busy. Keeps me occupied. I feel so alone. Like if I died no one would notice. That’s how alone I feel. I feel like no one would see. No one would care. If the fire alarm went off and I was stuck in the building no one would notice I was still stuck in there. I have moments in the day when I have stuff I want to talk about but no one to talk to so I sit talking to myself. The only company I have is me. This weekend has been horrendous. All my family have been busy so it’s just been me. The days have dragged. My mood has dropped. I’ve had no one. I wouldn’t wish lonliness on anyone. It’s such a horrible feeling. It’s one of the worst. I long to speak to someone. I long to have that someone special. Seeing photos of loved up people, groups of friends, babies, engagement photos, new houses, people making memories, I see it all. Then there’s me. Just me. I’m the outsider looking in on everyone’s life. And as well as being lonely. I’m now awfully jealous. Jealous of everyone’s lives. The pictures the paint. The stories they tell. The company they have the memories they make. I’m jealous of them all. I’m 27. Jealous envious lost and alone. It’s not a life worth living in purely here for the sake of my family. If I didn’t have them I’d have killed myself by now. There the only reason I’m still alive.
So I’m dreading Christmas this year. All if it. Not just the food. But mainly the food. I’m dreading the long leave I’ll get. I’m not looking forward to it. I’m dreading that I’ll be made to eat by family when I don’t want to. And I’m dreading what it will do to our relationship. Every time I get home leave I always lose weight. I never put on. Let alone maintain. I never want to eat as soon as I leave the hospital. And as much as I’m looking forward to being able to skip meals left right and centre I’m worried what statin this will put in my relationships with members of my family who are trying to get me to eat. I’m worried I’ll get annoyed at them I’m worried I’ll start to resent them. Christmas Day itself is whole other world. Everyone will be acting what they want when they want snacking on food throughout the day. Eating a big Christmas meal followed by a rich yet scrumptious dessert and I’ll be there parsnips over the calories eating a tiny portion of the meal and not touching dessert. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. I’m having to make a list of snacks and calories so I know what I can allow myself to have throughout the day. I’ll have to keep referring to it to check I haven’t gone over. It shouldn’t be like this. Christmas shouldn’t be a list of foods written down with the quantity I am allowed and the calories each tiny little snack has. I’ll have to keep a meabtl tally in my head of how many chocolates or crisps I’ve had to make sure I don’t go over. That’s if I can even bring myself to eat any. Which right now I can’t. Right now I have an advent Calendar in my room untouched. I can’t even manage to fit A tiny chocolate in my daily allowance of food. How pathetic and sad is that. Christmas should be a time to look forward to. But instead I just have pure dread. Yes I’m happy I’ll get leave but with that leave I’m dreading what happens. I’m dreading I’ll lose so much weight I won’t be allowed to be discharged. All I want for Christmas is to be discharged. That will be the greatest gift I can get. Actually. Scrap that. Yes I want to be discharged but that won’t solve anything. I still have the urge to restrict every second of every day. So the greatest gift I could get this year is to be “normal” that’s what I want. I don’t want any presents I don’t want money I don’t want gifts. All I want is to be normal and rid of this dreadful illness. And illness that can’t be solved with tablets and illness that isn’t always visible and illness that people think we put on. That’s what I want I want rid of this. I want to live a life doing what I want not bound by calories and food. Not having to check everything a million times to see what’s in it not being controlled by numbers and trying to eat less and less each day. Not measuring myself not weighing myself not staring and my thighs and seeing if I still have a gap there. I want rid of all of these feelings and I just want to be normal. That’s my Christmas wish this year. That’s all I want.
I don’t really know what to blog I just know I need to blog to get my feelings out.
I feel so low. So depressed. And so fed up. I really wish Sunday had worked. I’m so fed up with my life right now. I really am. I feel so stuck. So lost. And so alone. I feel no one would even notice if I disappeared. No one would even care. There wouldn’t be an aimee shaped hole. Every body would just get on with there lives regardless.
Tonight I have to eat a roast and I’m dreading it I’m getting so worked about it. I really am. The thought is horrendous. I really don’t want to eat it. But I’ll make up for it by not having breakfast tomorrow. I don’t care anymore if I lose weight. I want to. I’m going to discharge myself from the hospital. That’s my plan. That way I can restrict and diet like mad. I’m not ready to leave but feel I have to I need to get on with my life I can’t remain in hospital forever. I need a job I need an income. I need to live. Or die. I feel I’m just stuck in the middle. In a bubble. Waiting for it to pop. I feel I’m just merely floating through life. I’m not living that’s for sure. I’m a waste of space not worthy of life. I’m pathetic. I really am. I’m lost and need to be found but don’t know where to begin
Yep. You read that right. Today I got told I would get a discharge date in a couple of weeks time it’s looking like I will be discharged in January. I should be extacic. I should be jumping if the ceiling but instead I’m sitting here writing this trying not to cry and wishing my suicide attempt worked the other day. Why you may ask? Well I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m sitting here tears running down my face when I should feel happy I’m getting discharged. Instead I’m terrified. I’m kidding everyone. I’m fully aware going home means being depressed even more alone than I am now and I know full well hat I will slip back and restrict my food. I know the weight will just fall off. I’m dreading going back to work. I’m dreading being on my own. I’m dreading living in the family home. I’m dreading it all.
This weekend will be a test. I got framed home leave. I’m going home. To the family home and spending all weekekdn there. This will be a massive test. I’ve never felt loved. I’ve always felt in the way. This will see how I manage to cope. If j can carry on eating. If I can put weight on. If my mum and dad talk to me if the show me love. If they want to do stuff if they care. This will show me alll this stuff. But deep down I’m dreading it. I know I’ll be bored I’ll know struggle to eat and grant myself permission to eat. I know I’ll be alone. I know I’ll fall backwards and take several steps back. Everyone should look forward to getting home leave. They shouldn’t dread it. But I do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just want someone to cuddle me and tell me it will all be ok. I’ve wasted so much of my life and now I’m getting discharged next year I should be happy but instead I’m just dreading it. I’m dreading life. I wasn’t meant for life. It scares me. It terrifies me. It confuses me.
Yep. I’ve been in hospital 200 days. 200 days of eating. 200 days of being alone. 200 days of medication. 200 days of feeling fat 200 of calories. 200 days.
If someone would have told me in the middle of the year that I’d have been admitted to hospital and would spend over 200 days in there. I wouldn’t have believed them. But it’s happened.
As much as I hate my time here being in hospital I also have to thank the NHS. For all the bad press they get I probably wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale of it wasn’t for them. They literally saved my life. And are still saving it. I battle with them everyday but the long and the short of it is that they have saved my life. They’ve given me time to spend with my family. They’ve shown me who actually cares about me. They’ve fed me up. They’ve made me put weight on but they’ve given me my life back. It may not feel like it right now and I might hate the amount I have to eat. But they are helping me. They are saving my life. I can’t fault them for that.
I’ve spent 200 days alone in hospital. 200 days of wishing I wasn’t here. 200 days out of work. 200 days eating food after food after food. 200 days trapped in the four walls of the hospital. It’s not been an easy 200 days. It’s been beyond tough and I don’t know how many more days I have left. A fair few is all I know. But I have to say thank you. Thank you to the NHS for saving my life. I fought you. I’ve tried to take my life 3 times it hasn’t been easy but I’m grateful that they’ve fought me and kept me alive and are giving me the opportunity to live. So thank you. A massive thank you to the NHS. I may hate you most days but deep down I know your doing the best you can for me.
So Christmas is coming round. It’s not too far away and I’m not ready at all for it this year
Whilst I was at my Illest I made a deal and said by the time the Christmas markets come around we will go away for a long weekend and eat all the food and drink all the Christmas drinks that the stalls had to offer. But no. That’s not the case. I couldn’t imagine anything worse. I can even imagine walking around a Christmas market eating a hot dog and dipping warm churros in chocolate and drinking mulled wine. It’s just not possible. This really gets to me. When will I be normal? When will I be able to eat what I want to? When will ect start to work? Why does ect effect my memeory but won’t erase the memory of anorexia. Why?!
I’m slowly falling backwards. Day by day. I’m lying on my menu. I’m buying laxatives. And taking laxatives. I’m obsessing over steps. Having to get to 10000. I’m not doing well at all. Well apart from doing well at faking it. That I’m becoming an expert at. I do wish this was all over that my eyes would just close and not open again. I really really do. Today I saw a quote in a book and it reminded me of my ex. Why can’t that memory disappear too. Why can’t I move on why can’t that vanish like other memories. Why do I wish he would visit. Why.!?I’m dreading Christmas. I’m dreading new year. It’s just another day but one where I’ve realised I’ve wasted a whole year of my life. And one where I realise that I haven’t improved at all and will likely waste the next one. I really would be better off dead.