Honesty

One thing people sometimes do not understand, is that when I eat properly, I am not necessarily recovering and I am not necessarily cured from my eating disorder.

It is difficult.

During the summer, I decided that I was going to try and get better. I slowly let go of restricting. I allowed myself to eat carbs and meat and to cook with oil and I stopped limiting myself to 1200 calories. It seemed as if I were getting better.

However, my ED voice was resurfacing. The guilt and issues with weight were all still there. I was still weighing food and counting calories and thinking about food ALL THE DAMN TIME. That guilt, I realise, doesn't just evaporate. It motivates my behaviour as if it were the sole purpose of my existence. When I did eat, I was obsessive. I counted calories and weighed food. I cooked one meal at a time so I could be absolutely sure of the calories. I planned when I would eat and where and how many grams I would cook and what to do with the rest of the day to avoid the temptation of food. I stopped eating food where I could not estimate the calories. I began to walk 10 - 12 miles a day without a fail. I'd spent 20 - 30 minutes additionally exercising at home or at an outdoor gym. I would write down how many miles I was walking and would record the minutes I spent exercising at home. Any thing that impeded my attempts to burn calories would make me feel incredibly guilty and push me towards restricting again. Because I couldn't possibly eat enough if I am not burning calories. If I am not doing anything, I do not deserve food. I deserve the headaches and tiredness. I can't be lazy.

See, it is all still there. The faulty thought processes and the guilt and the fear of gaining weight and the obsession with food.

Eating properly means I am managing to live with those voices, but they are still there.

This sucks but I do not think I will be free of my eating disorder. At least not anytime soon.

My eating disorder is a save haven. As long as I am good at times, as long as I burn calories and restrict, I will not gain weight and I couldn't bear gaining weight because no one could ever love me fat. My eating disorder is all I know - I cannot eat properly without compensating or guilt. I cannot eat based on my appetite; I eat too much or too little.

Hopefully, I will get there.

I think I am becoming depressed.

I hate that label.

I hate labels attached to mental health in general.

It feels like once you tell someone like I have x problem, that is how they see you.

As an illness. As symptoms.

But really, no one is a set of symptoms. Or an illness. Even if it does seem to swallow you.

I unfortunately know what is happening to me.

I do not know if it makes it worse; knowing?

Because there is knowing that I am falling, but feeling equally like I cannot do anything about it.

The first time I felt like I was depressed was when I was 11 ish and all I wanted to do was rid myself from the world.

Hahahahaha, yes, a bit drastic and melodramatic but honestly, that felt like the only option.

Back then, I was falling apart and had no idea what the hell was happening to me and that scared me almost as much as how I was feeling.

Now, things aren't that bad, but at the same time, I don't want them to.

Things feel like effort. Small things. Putting on clothes sometimes. Showering. Some days, midday, I crawl back into bed and just wait for time to pass.

There are things that make me happy, yes. But, in the background, I just feel like shit. Trapped sort of.

I hate eating so much and it feels so bad but then when I do not eat enough, I feel like shit because it hurts.

I am avoiding people. I know I shouldn't, but I just can't handle socialising as much anymore.

On the positive side, I am seeking help.

I will talk to my GP.

I am still keeping my three things that make me happy a day list.

I am talking to people. I am not bottling things up.

I don't want you to be worried about me Bob. I just want to be honest. Things aren't great and instead of trying to hold things together and trying to be pretend to be happy, I am being honest.

And I do think that is  quite strong. I am accepting things. But still, at the same time, fighting it.

I can do this.

Chaplaincy

I was pretty sure that one of the chaplains at University did not like me.


Okay, I will backtrack a bit.


Do you know when you meet someone for the first time and you like them already? The sort of person you can see yourself being able to talk to. That was her. I guess, she just talked and smiled and she was nice.

I didn't get to know her much last year. I more sort of 'liked' her from a distance. Not in a creepy way. In a sort of, she's really funny (I know that through sermons) and really nice (she'd talk to me a bit after services when she wasn't busy).

There are many reasons I think she didn't like me last year.

She'd always encourage me to stay and join in the meal but I'd always come up with flimsy excuses.

Also, whenever she talked to me before services, I usually felt quite anxious and responded awkwardly and monotonous.

I also never turned up to anything. She was always trying to sort of engage me and be nice, but I wasn't receptive.

Things sort of got better nearer third time.

I had to cook at the Chaplaincy and I made rice and vegetables but I couldn't eat the rice at the time because I wasn't eating carbs and so I left straight after the service and so she messaged me on Facebook (an added me) and asked if everything was okay because I rushed off and I said I didn't like rice. That same week, I went to the chaplaincy to do a craft activity and we talked quite a lot. (I think she may have been surprised by how much I actually talk!)

Honestly, sort of closer, she was nicer and funnier than I thought. She laughed and talked a lot. She doesn't take things too seriously and she was caring and I don't know, she made me feel a bit like I mattered.

Around the middle of third term when things were getting a bit tough, I decided to tell her about my eating disorder. This was when things were getting worst and all I could think about was food 24/7. My personal tutor was away on a conference and honestly, I felt like I owed her an explanation. She was being so lovely to me and I was always a bit on edge when I talked to her and always came across as stroppy or rude. I never stayed for dinner in the chaplaincy after the services and I felt like maybe she took it a bit personally.

She was so lovely about it. She sat there and listened to me and asked me questions and afterward, prayed for me. It was so sweet of her.

What I liked most is that she didn't give up on me, if that make sense. She continued after that to ask if I wanted to stay for dinner, but would always smile and tell me that there was no pressure at all. It felt nice, her not making any assumptions and also that she made clear that it was not a problem if I didn't stay and that I had nothing to feel guilty about.


So yeah, things were sort of alright near the end of last year.

But I decided to volunteer in the chaplaincy in September. I thought why not? I'd like to do something nice for her.

It was so awkward. I have been feeling a lot more anxious in general. One of the things that makes me feel a bit on edge is where people I am not particularly close to are kind to me because sometimes people treat me better than  I treat myself and I feel uncomfortable because I don't think I deserve it. So seeing her again made me feel kind of anxious.

The way I treated her, I think was very much influenced by my anxiety. I'd smile and laugh a lot. I'd avoid direct contact where I could - opting to stare at my phone - than interact with her. The thing is, I talked to her colleagues just fine. I am certain that I came across as stroppy, quite, anxious and that I was horrible company.

At first, she talked to me, but after a couple of days,  I started to feel like she didn't like me because she thought I didn't like her because she came in and said hello to the other member of staff sat opposite me, but she didn't even look at me. Like, she would interact with the others as if I wasn't actually there. We were setting up for a craft activity and there were 6 other volunteers and she didn't directly tell me to do anything, only them. She interacted with them like her usual self i.e. making jokes and just talking a lot but she wouldn't say much to me. However, during the craft activity, I actually talked quite a lot and appeared happier and she actually talked to me a bit more and so I figured that she was treating me based on how I was treating her and that made me feel more anxious and I don't know, just kind of weird. I thought maybe she didn't like me and thought I did not like her and so stopped bothering with me but only talked to me when I talked to her just to sort of be nice.

I felt so bad that I decided I'd just talk to her.

She asked how things were going and I explained that I things with food were just as unstable and that I am also feeling not great and she asked about my anxiety levels and I told her they were high and she said that was interesting because I do not come across as anxious at all and then she asked how I was feeling when I volunteered at the chaplaincy and I said I felt like I was horrible company and she said no and that they loved having me there and I was like, are you sure but she said yes and the way she looked at me, I was sure that she wasn't lying it just telling me to make me feel better and so it turns out, I just made everything up in my head.

I was pretty sure she was ignoring me but I guess my interpretation is wrong and maybe I didn't notice things and maybe she was busy and because I was there pretty much every day for a while, I had become like furniture so she was used to having me around. I don't know. But for now, I think she likes me... I mean, she listened to me and tried to help and suggest what I should do and she didn't think I was being silly and she said that I could come back and talk to her like weekly if I wanted to and when I was skeptical, she said she would not make a promise like that if it were not genuine.

She is kind to me and it is difficult to accept because I do not feel like I deserve it. I do feel like a fraud. Like at some point, she will find out something about me that will make her hate me. I feel like I am blowing things out of proportion. Like I am unreasonable and not worth the hassle. I do not want to be dependent on someone because what happens when they let me down? What happens when I become too much to handle? However, I do feel less anxious around her because I know she doesn't dislike me. Also, I know now that I do come across happier than I feel even when I am certain I am being a stroppy piece of crap. I know that maybe I am processing things that aren't neccesarily bad, in a negative way and so things feel like a bigger deal than they actually are. Also, I know that in future, I can just talk about things and ask about how I am coming across.

So yeah. Peace out.

Hello!

These are exciting times!

I start back at Uni in a month which I am super excited for. I actually cannot wait to be back in lecture theatres. To have structure to my life. To see my University friends. To have my own room and to just be free really. Tat being said, I love my famiy

Friends again

WOOOP!

My mum a

13 reasons why

Okay, so I finished reading thirteen reasons why and it is funny because I always think books are better than series are movies. However, I didn't like the book too much.

I could not sympathise with Hannah in the TV series and in the books, I could a bit more. However, towards the end, I really disliked her. This girl, knowing Bryce was a rapist, took of all her clothes and got in a hot tub with him. She could have turned around, but no. In the book, it was depicted like she knew it would happen but she didn't care enough to try and get a way because she had already made up her mind. She almost wanted him to do something so that she could lose control completely. I am not at all for victim blaming. i.e. Where were they? What were they wearing? Above all, rape is wrong. However, it is common sense that if you know someone is a rapist, you don't hang out with them half naked.

I think my overall problem is the way suicide is depicted. Hannah used it as a weapon to punish people. I mean, yeah, she was vulnerable, but she was also malicious. The amount of responsibility she put on others for her life was a lot.

It reminds me of James actually. As in, trying to use suicide as a weapon, not to punish people I guess, but more to keep people around. At the time, me and other people involved thought, if we say or do the wrong thing, if we're not there for him, he might go through with it. We thought it was our responsibilities to keep him from hurting himself. We were so worried about our input into his life. However, more and more, I am starting to believe that as much as people can have an impact on your life, if someone is ending theirs, then it is there decision. Granted, it may not feel like a decision. It may feel like it is the only option. And yes, someone can be hurt by others making them want to hurt themselves. However, ultimately, you cannot save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Not in the long run anyway. For instance, I have a friend who has anxiety and I can try and be there for her, but when she doesn't want me to be, she won't contact me.

The answer has to come from the sufferer really. And that is what bothers me. Hannah's story is about what others did and didn't do. What did she do for herself though? I get that she felt like she was losing control, but there are so many alternatives.

Three pictures and a reason

I made and ate rice for the first time in weeks! It looked really pretty and so I took a picture.

Recently, my relationship with food has been getting a lot better.

When I came home from University, I struggled. I was restricting calories during the day. Around the afternoon, I would start to experience headaches and tiredness. Then around the evening, I'd start to think a lot about food. What I can't eat. What I want to binge on. How many calories I have eaten. How much weight I have gained or lost. How many calories I have lost through exercise. I usually keep busy during the day but when I come home in the evening, I'd see lots of food in the kitchen and before I realize, I am bingeing.  I'd feel super guilty - how many calories did I just eat?! - and worry that I had put on weight and I'd be so angry at myself. I would feel like I have wasted an entire day trying to be good and trying to not eat enough. I then pinch and bite myself because I am so annoyed, exercise to try and counteract what I have done and then plan the next day. What I will eat, and what I will do so that I avoid bingeing. But I can't. See the thing is, I am depriving myself of energy and nutrients. Bingeing is a way of compensating. So, it becomes a very cycle.

Things, however, have got better recently.

I reached a very bad place the other week.

I restricted calories very low and I ended up bingeing on more food that I have ever done in ages and I felt so bad. The thing that made it very bad was that I was aware of how distorted my thoughts were. I was close to tears and I was thinking, I wish I could purge because that would feel better. I was also so angry and I just wanted to hurt myself. This scared the hell out of me because even though they were just thoughts I'd wouldn't act on, I couldn't help but think about how in December, all I wanted to do was just 'eat a bit less.' In May, I felt so bad for eating a lot and ended up restricting calories so low I thought I might faint and I restricted calories on the day of the exam which meant I could not concentrate. My point is, it scared me because this isn't something I can predict. If that makes sense. I don't know where I will be in terms of my eating. I may be better. But I may be worse. That scares the hell out of me. I don't want to get worse. I don't want to purge. I don't want to lose weight. I don't want to gain weight. I don't want to screw up my health anymore. I don't want to feel the urge to restrict and binge. I just want to eat like a normal person.

I felt really trapped that day. Like I would keep on going in a cycle. Like I would only get worse. Like this is it. And I am NOT saying I am suicidal or anything, but I thought, I really do not want to live like this. I cannot continue like this.

It scared me so much that I think it sort of gave me a reality check. The next day, I attempted to eat properly. It wasn't great because I was allowing myself to eat food, all I could think was food, food, food and I ended up over-eating even though I was not that hungry.

Shortly after that, I was going through my food journal. I write what I eat, when, calories, how I feel and any thing else that is relevant. Written down, I kind of realize that as much as my eating is a cycle (of restricting and bingeing) that there were days where I was fine. As much as certain things could trigger me, there were things that buffered me as well. I also saw that I was miserable really. Restricting only temporarily felt good until I started to feel headaches and bingeing is always awful. So I thought, Okay, I am going to try chose a happier way. I am going to try not feel bad.

Long story short, recently, for like the past four days, I have been able to eat. I start of the day restricting calories, but then around mid-day, I allow myself to eat because it feels silly. It is sort of a compromise. My issues with food are still there i.e. I still have bad foods that I won't touch (any thing that is oily, fatty meat) and I am still counting calories and I have to measure everything I cook so I know the exact amount of calories and I feel uneasy eating foods that I have no idea how many calories are in it. The voice telling me I should feel bad for eating and the voice telling me to restrict calories are still there, but they are quieter.

It sort of makes sense. When I was in counseling  Jo (my counselor) told me that my eating problems are the healthiest way for me to deal with life. I laughed. Healthiest? However, it makes sense. Restricting calories during the beginning of term two in a way did help. It helped me manage my anxiety of gaining weight. This may seem stupid but losing weight was a big deal for me and also, I felt pressured to maintain that weight because of everyone's' comments. Also, I know myself. I know that I will say I am fine even when I am crying and I will even convince myself that it is all okay. However, really, I kind of feel like crap and like things are falling apart and focusing on food means that I can still pretend that things are okay. During term three, where I struggled the most, I had too much free time. As in, instead of studying for exams, I decided to rest. I wasn't going out and doing much and it gave me a lot of time to think and I couldn't handle it. I hate not being busy. I have to be doing something, or else, what is the point of life? What is the point of waking up in the morning? I do not want to merely exist and at that time, I felt like that was just what I was doing. Instead, focusing on other things, focusing on calories and food meant that I was occupied. It perhaps was less sad than focusing on the emptiness I felt at the time. Not eating was actually something that felt good, so at some points I was happy.

My point is, as destructive as not eating properly is, I have come to see is as helpful at times. Sometimes, it is a bit of a coping mechanism. However, now, I am in a genuinely good place. I have made so many positive changes since coming home. I am teaching Joy how to cook. I am refusing to do all the cooking and the cleaning. My family is eating healthier. I am allowing time for myself. I am expressing my feelings through drawing. I am occupied. There is meaning to my life. I have accepted the way my relationship is with my mum. I am stronger.

At the moment, I don't need to exert control over my eating. At the moment, I am strong enough to tell this voice to shut up. And I guess, I need to take that. I can't think of where I will be tomorrow or in six months. I just need to accept that today is a good day.

So yeah, here is a picture of rice. I took it because I felt happy. I ate and it felt like magic because I was actually enjoying food instead of thinking of it as calories.

Here is a picture of a light house I drew. I drew it because to me, it kind of symbolizes that I kind of do need help. As in, in the past, I just sort of push problems down and say I am fine. However, a sort of positive from struggling with food is that I kind of have to acknowledge that I do need help. If that makes sense. It made sense to me. I draw a picture every day (or at least aim to) and it feels really nice looking back and thinking, I took something horrible and created something pretty.

This is a tote bag I sewed buttons into to occupy my time on Sunday. It was fun. I felt so at peace and nothing mattered apart from sewing.

Au Revoir!