Another hell of a day

Wow! When will this all stop. Another hell of a day. What a roller coaster of emotions. I don’t know how to feel. What to think. How to process it all. What to do. What to say. Anything. My mind is fried. 

So today at 1pm I got the phone call. The phone call I new would happens but was convincing myself it wasn’t going to happen. But it did. Of course it did. My support worker called and said I’m now on the waiting list for an inpatient bed. Her regime didn’t work, day patient didn’t work so there is no other choice. There officially looking for a bed for me. Cue shock speechless shock even though I knew it was coming. I couldn’t process this not one bit. It’s like it took it a while to hit me. Then the tears started the realisation started. I can’t and I won’t go to hospital. I won’t. My family need me. My brother is getting married and very close friend is terminally Ill. I can’t disappear to hospital. I can’t fail. 

Then. With the help of my someone very close to me. And my brother we have persuaded the day hospital to give me one more chance. But I’m still on the waiting list for a bed. And if I mess Monday up. That’s it. Scared is not the word. I’m terrified petrified dreading Monday already. But I know it’s my only hope of staying out of hospital and seeing my brother marry his wonderful fiancé, and me there for my mum through this tough time. And do it for those who care. I won’t do it for me. I’m Nothing but I’ll do it for those few people who care and have gone above and beyond to help me. I’ll try. Trying is all I can do.  I’m tired though. So tired of this. Giving up seems like the easy option right now. I’m running out of fight when I need it the most. But I’m trying. I am. 

Constantly at war with myself 

Ok so here goes trying to explain it all. Well the food side of things. It’s like I’m constantly at war with myself. So I’ve lost loads of weight in 6 months. I look at pictures now and I’m disgusted with how I look. I look awful, I look ill. You can tell I’ve lost weight. And that there is the problem. So I look at these pics and see I’ve lost weight and see how Ill I look but I look at them and get a sense of achievement too. I’ve acheived something, I’ve lost weight. I’m almost proud. Well I am. I want people to comment and say I’ve lost weight. I want people to notice it. But then that’s crazy as I look awful. I’m ashamed of them I look so hideous but weirdly proud too. And I want to carry on achieving. If ive achieved that in 6 months what can I achieve in another 6 months. I want to beat myself. I want to carry on. 

It’s like when people ask if I want to get better. Yes. Yes I do that answer is simple. I do. It’s a stupid question to ask. Of course I want to get better. I don’t want to live like this. In a prison. In hell. I want to eat normally I want to go out for dinner I don’t want to be controlled and defined by this. But at the same time. I don’t want to put weight on. Im Petrified of that. Petrified of gaining weight. Its like it’s a challenge. It’s like I’ll feel I’ll have failed if I gain weight. But I need to. And I want to get better. I do. I know it sounds like I don’t but I do. I really do. It’s horrible. Every thought is food. I don’t enjoy going out for dinner. I’n hungry all the time. My body is screwed. I’m ugly. I’m hideous. I’m a failure. 

This illness is horrible. It’s a constant war. A constant battle.