Posts Tagged ‘weight’
Still in the land of the living…
Posted on: December 4, 2012
…but thinking of starting a new blog. Fresh starts and all that.
I was almost-recovered & hence completely forgot to update. But since beginning treatment for PTSD, I am now not-very-recovered-at-all and so thinking it might help to start writing again. They say it has to get worse to get better but I’m not sure how much worse it can get.
- In: eating and me. | Food
- 1 Comment
There’s something quite unique that I have noticed with eating distress, or at least with my experience of it. If I’m way off the mark, let me know. It’d be quite interesting to see what people’s thoughts are on the idea of eating disorders and lack of self care.
To me in my rational mind – food is one of the fundamental aspects of self-care. Hunger can override rational thought in desperate situations. Feeding yourself, getting nutrients, etc. is usually the default setting because we are unconsciously always aware that we need to eat to live.
However I’ve found with my bulimia-type anorexia-type EDNOS-type thing, being irrational takes over that default setting. I’m consciously aware that I am feeling faint or experiencing irregular heart rhythms and yet I continue to abuse myself and deny myself that fundamental self-care of eating. I don’t really know why. Oftentimes when people have ‘flu or something, they want to be curled up on the sofa under a blanket feeling sorry for themselves, even if that is not possible or socially acceptable to say! That cognition has all but gone in my brain. I remember what an ED psychiatrist told me when I was being seen by the EDU and the list of things that can go wrong simply by not feeding yourself properly…. but it doesn’t really bother me.
I don’t understand this part of myself at all, because I thought that with eating disorders, you’re not aware of what you’re doing to yourself. I am aware and I’ve all but given up on trying to get help for it. The physical effects of restricting my intake are increasing again but I have an overwhelming feeling of “cba” when it comes to going back to the GP again, for a blood test again, to be told that it would be a great idea if I ate again and blah… blah… blah.
I got to the point of going into the GP surgery and asking if there were any available appointments with my “regular” doctor. My psychiatrist and RegGP are in cahoots as psychiatrist knows when I haven’t been for my check-up and my bloodwork hasn’t been updated. There are no slots with RegGP for some weeks yet, but I could try again & see if there are any cancellations. I could, but in all honesty, I probably won’t.
Am I punishing myself? Am I attention-seeking, time-wasting, what? Have I taken the hint that I’m wasting my time trying to get better & resigned myself to this way of “living”? I hate not knowing about myself, I used to pride myself on being very psychologically-minded and understanding how my thoughts work.
But.
Cba.
That old merry-go-round.
Posted on: December 14, 2011
- In: eating and me. | Food
- 1 Comment
(Eating disorder discussion – you know the score, etc. etc.)
I got a spam comment offering me free HD sex. I have to admit, if I’m going to have sex, I would like it in high definition. Why bother, otherwise? Anyway.
I was watching My Child Isn’t Perfect last night, which is a series about children and young people with mental, emotional and behavioural disorders and their families. One of the girls featured suffered with bulimia nervosa and was recieving treatment at the Maudsley CAMHS. Not a great deal was discussed about the treatment, although the extent of her disorder was detailed so in a way it was rather triggering. The programme made me sad primarily for selfish reasons – were I a few years younger, my eating disorder would be being addressed and “taken seriously”. As it happens, now I’m an adult, I shall have to have DO YOU BELIEVE I HAD A PROBLEM, NOW? engraved onto my headstone in my typical dramatic, histrionic, narcisstic fashion.
I’m really struggling with my eating at the moment. Physically, I feel quite unwell but nowhere near as bad as the anxiety levels I experience when it comes to mealtimes. I’m propping myself up with pillows in bed because of the aching muscles in my chest and stomach from purging. My family have managed to convince me to start taking some of my nutritional supplements again, but they taste absolutely horrible. Why not make them a nice flavour like…. like key lime or strawberry or hot chocolate? I feel a bit like I’m being fobbed off – bump up the supplements when my blood tests come back all over the shop and that’s that. I want to stop thinking this way. I want to stop doing this to myself.
I understand the limitations on funding for eating disorder treatment in the NHS, I do. There is very little money to be shared among very many people struggling with eating distress. But I am still frustrated. It’s not their lives that are being ran according to what the scales say that day, or how many calories they’ve eaten, or how little sleep they had from the constant cramping in their legs and feet.
Oh my life. The cramps.
I do want to get better. At the moment. I’m scared that by the time help comes, I’m not going to want to get better. If I were really ill, would I want to get better? Is there anything really wrong with me? I could do with losing just a bit more weight, after all. I probably shouldn’t've eaten that sandwich, to be honest. I just need to eat healthier, eat less fat. Less dairy, especially. I’d feel healthier, I’m sure I would.
And so it goes on, round and round and round. And round and round and round. And I want to get off now. I think.
To the darkness.
Posted on: May 9, 2011
So I know this blog is primarily about personality disorder & my experiences of it – this could well be related to it but the following post will mainly have triggers for eating disorders &… I don’t know what. It’s just not very nice things being talked about.
At the moment, I am having real issues with night-time. It’s coming up to “bedtime” for me now & I can already feel my heart thumping. I know this sounds incredibly immature but let me explain..
I don’t know quite what’s going on, but I am… obsessed over the idea of being kidnapped from my bed in the night & nobody hearing. Stolen, for want of a better word. Why? I don’t know. I’m not worth being stolen in the first place. I have researched kidnappings, forced disappearences, missing people, etc. to a great degree. I frequent the UK Missing People website regularly, as well as the Kidnappings & Missing Persons section of the FBI website. As I say, I don’t think I’m worth being stolen, apart from sexual slavery maybe. I can’t see why the governments or intelligence services would want to take me because I have no information. Statistically, I have a better chance of waking up in the same bed in the morning in the UK than the US. Unexplained disappearences are more likely in America, including people that just… aren’t there the next morning. It’s not even what would happen to me if I was taken, it’s the empty bed the next day.
Recently, I’ve been feeling more fragmented in a dissociative sense. I’m going from very young (maybe around 5 or 6), to whoreish teenager (13+?) to some ageless personification of anger & destructive power. I forget periods of time, a few minutes to a few hours. Sometimes I am here but not. I have dreams where *I* have died & nobody wants to touch my corpse because it stinks so bad, so I have to find my remains somewhere. Locked up in the boot of a car, cut up & scattered in a ditch… & what’s scaring me so much is that one day I won’t be here anymore. I will be at the mercy of whatever power is trapped in my mind. My bed will be empty one morning, because “outwardly” won’t be there. It brings a whole new meaning to “losing your mind”. Your mind is lost, but where does it go? Some of these missing people are never found & declared legally dead after a while. Will that happen to me? Outwardly will be stolen by the powers & declared legally dead – it won’t be me inhabiting this body. Where will I have gone? One day I might forget time & never come back & where will have I gone?
I am struggling with my eating disorder at the moment. Obviously I am still grossly fat, my weight is hardly budging except for a few pounds. I am having a lot of blood tests right now as the purging is messing around with the levels of… stuff. I think I’m going to buy an exercise bike & exercise during the night, so I am awake & can try & avoid being stolen as much as possible. Sometimes I think all these weird thoughts with the flashbacks are making me lose my mind.
& so the fight for treatment goes on. At the moment, I don’t think I’m strong enough to cope with a session of being called a horrible person by my care team, so I’m avoiding them. They don’t believe I have an eating disorder, although my physical health provides evidence otherwise, & so the eating disorder team/unit cannot start treatment until the CMHT let go. I’m reaching the point where I don’t want help. It’s enevitable that I will get stolen, or my heart will just give the middle finger salute & give out, so why am I trying?
I will probably delete this at some point, I sound pathetic.
My tutor would be proud I am using my English skills… maybe not in the way I’m having to now, though!
After several phonecalls and messages to the local NHS Complaints Service, I got in touch with someone and relayed my initial concerns. I recieved a letter a few days later explaining my options – see if PALS could do anything, or bring in the big guns and go for a full Official Complaint.
Guess what this crazy little borderliner chose…
….obviously the latter option. We just love the drama!
No, really, I have tried being nice with them. Various family members have tried being nice. My old support worker tried being nice. Hell, family friends have tried being nice! But everyone enjoys, when reaching out for help, being told that “nobody’s keeping you here”. Surely that’s an of-sorts admission of providing a lame service?
Anyway.
I’m glad that I like typing and writing letters, because I am writing a lot of them now! I’m going to request copies of my notes at the CMHT (enjoyable reading, I’m sure) which I have to do by letter. Then there is the official complaint letter where I vomit my woe onto several pages in the hope that something changes. Part of the complaint is detailing what you’d like to happen or be resolved. To be honest, after the treatment I’ve experienced, I would much rather be referred somewhere else or at least see someone different. So much is being locked in while I have nowhere to express it, as I’ve been denied accessing trauma/sexual abuse counselling because I “should” talk to my care co-ordinator. I may be being overly emotional about the subject, but I don’t think you can force someone into opening up about things, especially things like that.
Considering one of the major goals for my transfer from CAMHS to the CMHT was more specialised trauma therapy (whether that genuinely contributed to BPD or not), the lack of it, more to the point, the blatant disregard of sensitivity and respect for my experiences and reactions to it is… upsetting to say the least.
Things in general have been going downhill, relating to my ED and flashbacks/intrusive memories. I don’t want to go into details, I don’t see why I need to, at least at the moment. But things aren’t great and I just wish this complaint process would be over with and I was seeing a team more supportive and just yes.
Only a few weeks left and my first year at college is over. Things are going to get much harder and I just don’t know if I’m ready for it yet. I don’t know if I can deal with anything right now.
I am pretty tired.
Posted on: January 7, 2011
- In: Food | Hospital
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At the risk of sounding overdramatic & attention-seeking, I had to have an ambulance called out again tonight. The problem settles down & I chose to stay at home & see my GP as soon as possible. But, sigh. I’ve just (semi) got over having to go to A+E for my mental health issues, like feeling suicidal & attempting suicide. Now a physical problem most likely caused by my ED is having me ricochet in & out of hospital. I don’t like it. I’m tired of hospitals & being ill & admittedly yes, it is self induced but… is it really? I find it hard to grasp the concept of what I do to myself as an eating disorder & therefore an actual issue. I’ve been diagnosed & there is talk of being refered to specialist eating disorder services/unit but it’s how I cope. It will be strange to let go of, but I guess it must be done because it is affecting me quite worryingly now.
Strange.
As you can see, I’ve avoided talking about it here because… I don’t really know how to talk about it. I feel sleepy, so I may sleep.
- In: Food
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Short post for now but hold onto your hats, guys, this is some pretty deep stuff.
A few former posts have been on the topic of my (have not got any) eating problems. Being the brave bee in a bonnet that I am, I tried really hard to talk to the mental health team about them and how I was feeling. My previous post goes into my discussion with my psychiatrist, for example. I have been given some advice which I think I should share with you all.
If you have an eating disorder, if you make yourself sick, if you panic at the sight of a meal, if you starve yourself, if you binge, if the mere idea of eating makes you feel disgusting and dirty…
….plan and eat a healthy, well balanced diet of three meals a day, plus snacks.
Mkay!
If you have trouble eating one meal, how the very hell are you meant to be able to sit down and plan a nice balanced diet with three meals a day, plus snacks? And not throw up? And not run up and down the stairs twenty times? And just deal with it?
I may be dissing some really good advice here, but, still.
I’m off to eat a healthy, balanced, planned breakfast now. Cup of coffee in one hand and an apple/banana in the other.
- In: eating and me. | Food | Uncategorized
- 2 Comments
I am too fat for an eating disorder. I actually need to lose the weight.
I seriously don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Well, my psychiatrist said that you can have an eating disorder at any weight, but the point still stands. I am not bulimic. I am not ill. I think I’m fat because I am. I am genuinely fat. I am not crazy. What I’m doing and eating and thinking is normal.
I actually don’t know what to think or do. I. Just don’t.
I did have other news but this is taking priority at the moment.
The F word.
Posted on: April 4, 2010
This post discusses weight gain, food and food lists.. As a forewarning.
F word means Food.
Fat.
Failure.
I’m not even going to put down what I weigh now. It is a ridiculous amount in the space of 6 weeks though. Verging on dangerous. All down to these stupid stupid stupid antidepressants that aren’t even working! I’m tempted to just stop taking them, but that would be hard seeing as Mum gives me my meds. I would take them myself but the tablets are in a locked box, due to the obsessions I get about overdosing.
I’ve had a slice of toast with peanut butter and jam today. And that’s it. I’m living off apple juice, fruit tea and water. Yeah, I make myself sick at times and yeah, I was underweight at one point but I don’t understand why the hospital threatened me with the eating disorder unit. I’m in the “danger of being overweight” BMI category, for the love of God. In the space of 6 weeks. I do NOT have an eating disorder. Idiots. I can’t actually think of anything but this at the moment.
*bubbles forth with profanity*
Mmm. Cranberry, raspberry and elderflower tea..
Weight gain.
Posted on: March 19, 2010
Succumbed and weighed myself today. I’ve put on minimum two stones since I started my tablets, which was about.. 6 weeks ago?
Two stones. 6 weeks. For a girl with eating problems. And the meds aren’t even working.
Fabulous. Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous.
I don’t even know what to say.
Damn.
