Planning and plotting 

A month today and I’ll be discharged. I’ll be free from this hospital. I’ll have my independence back. I’ll have control over what I eat (or don’t) I’ll be the one In charge of my food. People won’t have to watch me eat. I won’t have to be supervised after meals. I’ll have the Control. The ball. Or should I say food will be in my court. A month today. 28 days. And the planning has already begun. I’m not better. I’m not different to when I was when I came in. Yes physically I’ve changed I’ve put weight on my figures different. But mentally I’m still the same. Mentally I still don’t want to eat. Mentally I’m a mess. I bought an advent calendar but can’t even bring myself to eat one teeny tiny chocolate a day. How pathetic is that. It’s ridiculous. I’m a 27 year old woman and I’m scared of what an advent chocolate will do to me. How crazy! 

I’m plotting my discharge. I’m not going to eat. On a good day I’ll be lucky to have one meal. I won’t do breakfast. I’ll use work as the excuse then lunch time if I go home I’ll fake it. If no ones in I’ll leave a plate on the side (dirty) to make it look like I’ve eaten and if someone is in I’ll have something light and make an excuse for dinner. I’ll pretend to eat out or eat a slimming world meal. I’ll get round only have one meal a day. I’m going to restrict as soon as I leave the four walls of this hospital. I need to. I have to. 

I stood yesterday seeing if my thighs touch. If I squeeze my thighs they touch. I remember the day the were miles apart. That’s what I want back. I want to be able to see my rib cage. I’m jealous of the “celebrities” in the jungle who are losing weight. I want to be them. I need to be them. I need To lose weight. And I will. I have 28 more days here Ona weight gain diet then the Control is my hands and I’ll restrict. The weight will fall off. That’s the plan anyway! 

What a day 

So what a day today has been. Today I planned to skip breakfast and lunch and have a light meal for dinner. But instead I did myself breakfast, and I ate lunch. Today has been a good day. A great day in fact. Today I got a job offer. Which I’m accepting and today I got a discharge date. Yep. A discharge date. I’m getting discharged. 

So let’s start from the beginning. Breakfast. I planned to skip it. But I woke up this morning and thought to myself. I can skip it. And loose weight and stay in hospital or I can eat it and gradually start to get better and aim to get discharged. So I ate it. 

Then I had the job interview which went really well and I got offered the job. He has loads planned for me from qualifications to being the person who opens up every day. 

Then I had a date. Yep. A date. With a real life gentlemen and it went great. He’s lovely and I didn’t stop smiling for the whole time. I already can’t wait to see him again. 

Next step. Lunch. I planned my trip back to hospital around lunch time time so I could easily skip lunch. And dessert. Instead I got back to the hospital and choose to have lunch. Yep. I chose it. I chose to have it. I chose to have it to take a step closer to discharge. I want to get better. I don’t want to remain in hospital for months on end. I want to get better I want to take this new job. I want to date. I want to live. I want to be normal. I could have easily missed it and skipped lunch but I didn’t. I didn’t take the easy option. I took the hard one. It’s not been easy at all today. I’ve felt incredibly guilty after ever meal I’ve had. It’s been a struggle. But for the first time in a long time I’ve felt I want recovery. I felt I can do this. I felt I can get discharged. Everyday will still be a struggle. Everyday I’ll still battle with myself. Food will never be my friend food will always be my enemy. I won’t be able to eat chocolate or pizza I won’t be able to go for three course meals. I’ll feel fat everyday. Ill see fat. I’ll feel guilty after every meal I’ll feel ashamed but I can do this. I can take a step towards recovery every day. I can and I will. Today has been a tough day. It’s been a challenge. It’s been hard but I’ve got through it and come out the other end. For the first time in forever I feel I can do this 

I don’t know 

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 


I just give up. I really do. I’m stressing over everything. From money for Christmas presents to food intake. I’m really really struggling. I was meant to meet up with this guy for coffee today but he cancelled. Surprise surprise. And then it just had a knock on effect and ruins everything. 
I’m massively struggling with food intake. I feel so guilty when I eat and food is on my mind all the time. Every minute every second it’s food. How I can dodge it how I get away with eating less. And then once I’ve eaten it’s the guilt and I feel horrific afterwards. I feel fat I feel greedy I feel ashamed I feel horrible.i don’t want to eat but know if I don’t they send me backwards in the hospital so it’s a catch 2. It’s a lose lose situation. I cant win. I eat I feel horrific and don’t eat I risk being sent backwards.  I’ve had enough I really have I just want this all to stop. My life isn’t worth anything. It really isn’t. I really want it to end. Someone to shot me someone to run me over I feel so lost. So alone. So depressed. And this time of year just  heightens all those feelings. This time of year is meant to be a jolly time spent with loved ones. You see lives up couples everywhere friends doing Christmas things families playing games. All sorts of things. My life isn’t worth living. I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone. 


So it’s lunch time and I don’t know what to do. 

Do I eat to make sure I don’t go back when I go back to hospital Monday or do I listen to Ana and not eat. Do I let myself feel hungry. Hear my stomach rumble. Starve myself as that’s what ana wants. 

I really don’t know what to do. I eat then I’ll feel fat and I’ll spend the rest of the day ruminating over what I’ve eaten. Feeling massive. Feeling greedy. Ashamed of what I’ve eaten. Ashamed of what I’ve done. Or do I ignore the rumble of my stomach and listen to ana. Listen to her in my ear. Telling me not to eat. Telling me I’ll be fat if I eat telling me I’m a fraud if I eat telling me to do anything but eat. Reach for a laxative. Reach for a sip of Pepsi max to dull the hunger. Everything one thinks I’m doing fine but what they don’t know is I’m not. Im still firmly under anas grip and planned this weekend so I wouldn’t have to eat. I’m terrified it will mean I’ll be sent backwards but I just can’t eat. I can’t do it. I want to. I want to avoid being sent back, I go to open the cupboards to get the food out but my hand freezes. By brain yelling at me to stop. I freeze. Stuck there. Looking at the food but not being able to get it out. Not being able to cook. 

After 10 mins and many debates in my head. I go back to the cupboard. Get the beans out and make myself beans on toast. I sit there. With it steaming hot on a plate in front of me. Crying. I can’t eat it. I can’t bring myself to eat it. I really can’t. I really want to but I can’t. I’m shaking. I’m crying. I can’t do it. It feels so so so wrong. What am I going to do. I can’t do it. I can’t lift the fork to my mouth. I can’t even pick up the cutlery to cut the bread. I’m frozen. Crying. Tears steaming down my face over beans on toast. What is this?! How to I get over this?! How?! I’m stuck. I really really am. Ana is still all encompassing. Ana is in me more than ever. She’s very much still a part of me 

What do I do. What????

Home leave 

So I get to go home this weekend. I get to spend 4 nights at home. 4 nights in my own bed. 4 nights with my family. 4 nights away from hospital. 4 nights being normal. 
Except I won’t be normal. I’ll be stressing over food, stressing over everything I eat and everything I should be eating. Stressing over breakfast lunch and dinner. Stressing over coffees and drinks. Stressing over it all. Part of me is excited to be home. Part of me is seeing it as an excuse not to eat. I never do well when I go home. I always manage to skip meals I’m always sneaky. I always lie. I make hot chocolates with water instead of milk, I skip the butter in sandwiches. I eat sugar feee baked beans I buy skinny bread. I cut corners left right and centre. And hats on he stuff i eat. On top of cutting corners in the things I eat I often miss meals altogether. And part of me is excited that I’ll get the opportunity to skip meals. I see going home as a place to lose weight. But at the same time I’m terrified. I’m doing just enough in hospital to stay on the ward I am and be discharged in January but if I lose weight they’ve made it clear that they will send me backwards and supervise me even more. I don’t want to go backwards. So here’s the tough situation. I use home as an excuse not to eat. It’s so easy not to eat. It’s so easy to fall back in to the bad habits. But if I do and I come back to the hospital having lost weight. They’ll send me back. So what do I do. Here lies the problem. Do I eat all I should eat and ruin my weekend with stress and the guilty feeling of eating. And spend the weekend ashamed with myself for eating meals. Feeling fat. Feeling guilty. Feeling repulsed with myself but gaining weight and getting nearer to discharge. Or. Do I spend the weekend cutting corners and missing meals. But being happier within myself and enjoying my weekend. 

The ideal would be to eat. Gain weight. Enjoy what I eat and enjoy the weekend. But that’s not possible. So it’s a matter of either or. But either way I’m stuffed. Either I out weight on and hate myself or I loose weight and go backwards. Either way what should be an enjoyable weekend will actually be a stress filled one 


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. 

Day 200

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. 

Weight gain 

So yesterday I fought for my place on transistion. I promised the staff I would eat. I promised them I would gain weight. I promised them I would do everything I could do I did not have to go back to progression. I promised them I would do it.

So. I am. 

Today I woke up and had breakfast. And added in extra. I’m so petrified of going back that I’ve been scared into eating. I doubled my breakfast. Which I should have been doing everyday but had stopped and was only having a single breakfast. But the p work popped in and scared me into eating. I then had a main dessert. A whole 350 kcals. Which normally I would skip and only have 100. But not today. Today I’m terrified. I’m terrified of going backwards that I ate a main dessert. That’s one way to get me to eat. Scare me into it. 

I’m still very much of the opinion hat I’m eating my way out of here. As soon as I leave I’ll diet and lose the weight. I’m still thinking like that. I hope that one day j wake up and the switch in my brain is flicked and that feeling will disappear but at the time being it’s still very much there. But at least I’m eating for now. I was told I’ll be blind weighed and not told about it so I can’t fabricate my weight. I’m told if I don’t put a significant amount on I’ll be sent backwards. So for now the scare tactic is working. I’m eating. I’m scared. I’m eating. Let’s see if it’s enough!! 

I have a plan.

So I’ve come up with a plan. A plan I’m going to stick to and follow through. A plan which will help get me through the next tough few weeks of weight gain. 

So what’s the plan I hear you all say. Well here goes…… my plan. 

I’ve been told i need to put more weight on as I’ve been losing weight and need to gain before I can maintain. So this is my plan. My throughly thought through plan. My way out of here. My answer to all my problems. The solution I’ve been looking for. Dropped like a penny hitting the floor. I sat there, it sprang into my mind and now I’m determined to stick to it. 

Phase 1 of the plan. Eat. Yes you heard me right. An anorexic saying eat. I will eat what they want me to. I will eat enough to gain weight. I will eat enough and gain enough so I’m at the weight that they want me to maintain. Which is 54kg. So phase one. Is reach 54kg. Phase 2 of the plan is to maintain 54kg for a few weeks and show them I can do it and I’m ready to go home and be discharged. And phase 3. We’ll phase 3 is the stage I can’t wait for is the stage that is making the other stages bearable. Stage 3 is the final stage and makes the other stages doable. What’s stage 3 I hear you ask. Well stage 3 is restriction. Yep. You read correctly. Restriction once I’ve maintained 54kg I will get discharged. And then I can diet, restrict and lose weight. I can loose the weight I’ve just put on. I can get back to a skinny person. I can get back to 40kg or less. That’s my aim. As soon as my feet step out of this front door and I’m discharged the restricting will begin. This place hasn’t made me better hasn’t changed how I feel about food. Hasn’t changed anything. I still have the over powering need to restrict and now I’ve sorted out how to do it I just need to get the balk rolling. I’m just going to have to suck it up these next few weeks and keep looking towards when I’m home and the restricting can start!!!