So I need to cut the tether. But I’m scared. People ask me if I want to get better. Of course I do. I dont want to remain like this. But this is easy. It’s easier to remain like this than recover. Recovery is hard. It’s not just that though. It’s life. Anorexia covered up problems and shielded me. It controlled me ever hour of every day. It took everything from me but gave me a purpose and a direction. And now I’m fighting it it is shouting at me that I’m failing. I’m so scared of recovery. I want a new life I want a future but I’m petrified. It’s like learning to walk all over again. My security blankets that I’ve cocooned myself in for the past year are slowly shirking and exposing me. But I’m scared I don’t know who I am and I have to start from scratch. I’m like the butterfly coming out of the cocoon. Wondering what to expect and what this new life.
So yes I do want to get better. I’m just scared. But everyday I fight and I Shink the blanket day by day. It may only be a tiny but each day. But a bit is a bit
So I hate my belly I don’t shower because of it. Don’t look in mirrors. And keep my eyes closed whilst getting dressed.
I was told to take pictures of myself as photos show me what I actually look like instead of the distaution that the mirror says.
So this morning I took picture. Back front and side. And my word I’ve put in sooooooo much weight. I instantly compared these pictures to the Ines I previously took before my first admission. And wow! I look totally different. I’ve got a massive belly. It bulges out. I look fat. I look like I shouldn’t be here I look like I don’t need this place. I don’t need to be in hospital. I look like I need to go on a diet!
Today is Monday which means I got woken up (I was already awake) for weigh in at 6am. Monday weigh in is the only weigh in we’re allowed to know out weight. I get weighed twice a week, once on a Monday and once on a Friday, but we never find out weight out on Friday. We choose on Monday weather we want to see or not. It took me a while to first decided what’s best. But I’ve opted to see it. I do every Monday. It effects me massively but if I didn’t find out I wouldn’t know how I’m progressing and when I did eventually find my weight out it would have increased massively so would have been more of a shock.
We all have to go the toilet before weigh in and strip to our bra and knickers, taking of all Jewellery too. I stand there arms by my side, weight for the beep and then look at my weight! Increases again. I’ve put on yet more weight. Which obviously I knew I would as I’m in the weight gain programme, however it still effects me, this week is the least weight I’ve put on since I’ve been here, the aim is to put on a kg a week but this time I only just put on half a kg. Think it’s the exercise I keep doing. However it’s still a gain and now I’m petrified next week I’ll have put on loads and loads more.
I instantly check my bmi. It’s rocketing up! I’m miles away from the pink ‘critically dangerous’ section and rocketing up to healthy rapidly. I’m still in the anorexic bmi range but it’s going up each week. Each day even. This is a good thing for recovery but my anorexic mind hates this and thinks I’ve failed and tells me I need to fall back to the pink section and that I should be ashamed I’m in the blue section now. I’m nearly at a bmi of 15 which means I can drive again which means I’m surely fine. This is playing on my mind loads. I feel extremely fat, guilty and ashamed. My bmi is rapidly increasing and the more it increases the better the recovery but the worse the anorexic shouts at me as says I’m a pathetic excuse of a human being who is now getting extremely fat and heavy. And my comfort blanket that anorexia gave me is slowly being pulled away and I hate it. I don’t know what life without it is like. I’m scared. So scared. But can’t admit this as people think that means I want to be ill. I don’t want to be. I just don’t know what life is anymore. What direction I want to go in or who to be “normal” anymore. I’ll just fall back and be invisible more invisible than before. The anorexia gave me a purpose it was something I was good at. It hid things and covered things up and now it’s going I’m like a toddler taking its first steps. It’s all unknown territory.
So today I caught it in the mirror. Today I saw my belly. Today I saw the bulge. Today I saw it.
I feel ugly. Hideous. Grotesque. Ashamed. Guilty. It’s horrible. I feel disgusting. If i was a celebrity and the paps caught me in my bikini they’d be rumours I was pregnant. That’s how much it pertudes.
It’s taken me forever to put my outfit on today. Every thing I wear makes me look big. Weather it’s my thighs or stomach. I have to wear baggy clothes I can’t wear anything clingy. I find a shirt tucked in and pulled loosely out works best at hiding my stomach.
So here’s today’s outfit. A million outfits and so much time wasted. And I still think it makes me look big
So I’d thought I’d write a post of what a typical day as an inpatient is like , for those of you who are infested, be it your just curious, your an inpatient yourself , your waiting for a bed for yourself, or you know someone who is suffering with anorexia or bulimia.
So I have had two admissions and although things slightly differ from hospital to hospital, the basics are the same , This will not be 100% accurate for everyone as I have noticed differences between my previous admission and my current one but this will give an insight into what it is like.
So a typical day:
Woken up at 7:30 (apart from Mondays and Fridays which are weigh ins so even earlier) and get ready for breakfast. Breakfast is at 8:30 and you get half an hour to eat it. If you don’t finish you get fortisip. We then get ushered into the lounge and have supervision which last an hour. In this hour you have to stay seated and can’t leave the lounge. We then do menu choice. Choosing all meals for the day and breakfast for the next day. After supervison we get half an hour to ourselves or we have a group which will start at 9:30 and last till 10:30.
Snack is shouted at 10:30 and we have to go to the dining room and have 20 minutes to finish snack. We can’t leave the table till everyone’s finished and supervison will start when everyone is done supervision lasts half an hour and normally there’s a group which starts at 11:15-12:15.
Once this is done we have 30 mins to ourselves and we can go back to our room or in the garden. Lunch is then called at 12:45 and we have 30 mins for the main course and 15 mins for dessert. Supervison last an hour and normally there’s another group between lunch and afternoon snack at 3:30. Again 20 mins to eat 30 mins supervison.
Dinner is 5:45 and 30 mins for main 15 mins for pudding. Supervison is an hour and in that we have ‘reflection’ where we go round and say how our day was. Once supervison is up we can do what we want till 9pm when it’s the last snack of the day. This lasts 20 mins and supervison for this one is 20 mins too. Then it’s medication and we can finally go to bed!
You can see from this we spend most of the time in meals or supervison. Weekends there’s no groups so it’s ideal for visitors but if you don’t have visitors time can go very slow. Groups are a distraction and pass the time. Some find the groups helpful. Others not so much. Groups can range from art therapy to body image groups. Meals vary between patient to patient so I can really explain a typical food plan. But you spend most of your time eating or being supervised after eating!
It’s tough. Very tough. You feel like all your independence has gone but with time and improvement you can get leave and can go out and have snack and lunch out too.
So I feel I’m taking steps backwards not forwards. I feel I’m just falling. I’ve had my unescorted snack taken away from me because I couldn’t manage it. I immediately saw t as a way out of eating snack and skipped part of it. But I was honest and owned up! And when I did manage to do it outside of the hospital environment I felt more guilty than ever before and that I had eaten far too much. When in a tail fact I would have eaten the same amount if I was in the hospital having it and I actually had to walk to a costa to eat it so actually would have burned calories off and skipped supervison. But instead I felt I ate too much and had over indulged. It makes no sense.
I also had to be watched today when I asked for and used my straightners as I’ve been using them to harm myself. I had to have my toilet locked when I went to my room to get my shoes even when there was only 5 minutes left of supervision. I had to ask to go in certain shops on ward trip and couldn’t wander off. I feel like a child. I have to be reminded to shower because I can’t do that and I’m in hospital because I have problems eating. Which for any other human being is a basic nessecity in life which they don’t even rhino twice about. Yet here I am in hospital for over 2 months so far becasuse I can’t bloody eat on my own
So today I showered. Now I know that’s a basic thing to most of you but for me this is a massive thing. I haven’t showered since Saturday as I can’t bring myself to stand naked in the shower and feel my stomach. But today I made my self shower. I kept my eyes closed the whole time and used a scrunchy to wash my stomach rather than my hands so I didn’t feel it. Drying myself off with my eyes closed to and not touching my stomach. But still I showered. So that’s a step forward I guess. I also made the effort I did my hair and makeup and out nice ish clothes on. But why. Why do I bother? Why did I bother? As I am now having to change my outfit as what I’m wearing I feel horrendous in. I feel it makes me look fat I feel it’s showing of all my fat I feel grotesque in it. I need to change it to something else something very baggy. So what’s the point in bothering. There isn’t. I take one step forward and 10 back. I’m stressing over everything today stressing about when I can secretly exercise or fit my hour leave in to walk. Stressing over clothes and how I look. Stressing over all my meals today. Stressing over money. Everything! I feel I make progress but I don’t. I never do. I just end up feeling shit and worse about myself. I feel guilty that I did my makeup and hair I feel guilty I bothered.
I feel like this is all my fault. I feel weak that I ended up here. If I was stronger I wouldn’t have let ana get a hold of me. If I was a success I wouldn’t have let ana hospitalise me. If I was a different person I wouldn’t be in this situation.
What did I do so bad though to have this! Why me! I guess I’m an easy target, I’m weak, I’m pathetic I was already failing at life so it just latched on to me. It knew I would listen it knew I would follow the orders it told me daily to do and not to do. It knew it would because I had nothing else, I had nothing I had control over, I was suffering from depression, and it knew if I was told to do something or not do something I would. I’m not a risk taker. I’m a plodder. I don’t leap it jump I just merely plod along following instructions. And still am.
Ana told me to stave myself so I did. She told me I’m not good enough for or deserved food, she told me I was fat and to skip meals she told me to walk and walk and. It drink. She told me to laxatives every day. And I listened. I didn’t have the fight or courage to ignore her. And now I’m listening to the nurses hear and eating when they tell me to and ana is still fighting back. She’s trying to wean her way back in. I still exercise (secretly) and walk for my hour leave once a day. And the heights and feelings in my head when I eat ate horrible. She still tells me daily I’m fat and now I’m failing all over again. She’s yelling at me screaming that I’m failing while the nurses tell me I’m making progress. It’s a devil and an angel being pulled this way and that way. Thinking this and that one minute up one minute down. Today I chose hot chocalate for evening snack and now regret it. Nothing is simple. Nothing is easy.
Every little thing is getting to me. No matter how big or small there all massive to me right now and I feel crap.
I feel like I’m back in school and it’s like de ju vu. I’m close to two people in this unit but they seem to just leave me out and forget about me, they arrange catch ups all the time and never seem to have the time of day for me. I k ow this is silly but This has been my life forever. I’m always discarded, forgotten about, left behind. What’s so wrong with me that this always happens.
I also feel so guilty about so many things. I feel like everything is my fault like this is karma. I was weak getting ill and this is my punishment. Spending my life in no mans land Forgetting what life actually is. I fell asleep today during dinner and snack and normally I would exercise but I didn’t. And now feel extremely guilty and ashamed of myself.
Today I went to buy siccors but put them back. I went to buy them for craft work but then reasoned that if there in my room all the time I might use them for something else as I will see them all the time and the temptation will be there. So put them back.
The nurse had to make me shower again today. I spent the whole time with my eyes closed and couldn’t bare to touch my stomach my big ugly tummy.
I’m getting fatter by the day uglier by the second. Clothes are getting tighter my legs are getting bigger. Life is permanently on hold. I’m just in a bubble floating through the air. Not really knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going or when this bubble will pop.
I am a pathetic excuse of a human being.
I am weak not strong
I am a failure not a success
I try but never win
I am not brave
I am fat
I am alone
I am sad not happy
I am alive but not living
I can’t see a light at the end of the tunnel
I can’t imagine life anymore I can’t see past these four walls of te hospital. I’m 27 and am in hospital because I couldn’t do an essential thing in left and eat. I couldn’t bring the fork to my mouth and eat and couldn’t do that. Like a baby I have to learn to eat. I’m in hospital to eat. People go through bigger stuff than this and they cope fine. Ultimately I am here because I couldn’t eat and because of my past and how I’ve always felt alone and left behind and unloved by my parents. That’s pathetic. People grieve people are iller than me and they cope better. I’m 27 and staff have to tell me to shower and come to my room and make sure I do as I can’t even shower now. I feel like all I’m doing is eating and being feed food and tablet after tablet is being thrown at me. It’s not that simple though. Food and tablets aren’t the answer but I don’t know what is. I still don’t think I’m ill I acknowledge it sometimes but most of the time I think I’m done and think I’m wasting this bed, someone more worthy should have this. Because like I said earlier im a failure and now I’m failing at anorexia but I’m not winning at life either. I’m just stuck. Floating.