Digging For A Cause

I really have nothing to say right now. I still have the feeling that I have been run over by a bus, still feeling like curling up in bed for the next 6 months, still having no desire to do anything/see anyone. Hell, I haven't switched on my phone for 3 days, never mind actually called anyone.

I don't know where this came from. A week ago things were really starting to look up, then all of a sudden, "BAM". A couple of things did contribute, looking back...

I was living in London with a friend's family a few years ago. I was working with a treatment team, had my friends nearby. I wasn't doing "well", but there were concrete plans in place to help me move forward. My dad (who has always been opposed to "treatment" and thinks I should just sit in a garden and be healed by nature) persuaded me to move to Scotland and live with him. I knew that there were/are VERY limited treatment resources in Scotland but he assured me that *he* would take care of me, that his wife was a dietitian who would stay at home with me, that we would eat together, do things together- set up our own "care plan" to avoid another inpatient admission. I stupidly agreed. Packed my bags and left. It became obvious pretty early on that things weren't going to work out for lots of reasons. My dad worked long hours so was never home, his wife and I didn't get on so the atmosphere in the apartment was horrible, never mind "healing". I didn't know anybody, didn't connect with the therapist I was assigned to and regretted moving, but going back to London at that point wasn't an option. So I stayed. Within a few months, I NEEDED to get away and focus on my recovery which was when I went to New York for treatment. Whilst I was there, it became apparent that I would be there longer than the anticipated 3-4 weeks. I couldn't give a date for WHEN I would be back, and my dad, out of the blue, called me in the hospital to say he was selling his apartment, moving abroad and putting all my stuff in storage. His reasoning was that he was retiring and needed the money from the sale of the apartment to live off. I understood this. I wasn't happy about it, knowing that if/when I returned, I had nowhere to GO, but it was his apartment/his money/his choice.

Fast forward to now. I am staying with my mom, in the storage room of her apartment. It's also my brother's room. He is away at college so doesn't need a big space since he's never here, but the room is filled with his and my mom's stuff (I have 2 small suitcases in the sitting room behind the sofa and have gotten rid of most of my things because there was nowhere to put it). I am in the process of registering as "homeless" and applying for "supported housing" (ie, a shared house with 7-8 people who struggle with mental health problems, mainly psychotic illnesses- been in one before and they are SCARY places to live). On Friday night, my older brother came for dinner and just happened to mention that my dad is coming at Christmas, having bought an apartment in the city. The plan is for my older brother and his girlfriend to live there and pay rent to cover the mortgage until my dad moves back.

I am so angry and hurt about this. I don't understand why my dad sold his place with such urgency, making out like he desperately needed the money, and now less than 2 years later has bought another property (which I am 99% sure was more expensive). I am angry that I gave up EVERYTHING I had in London to live with him and believed his lies. I'm angry that he has put me in this situation of being "homeless" without accepting any responsibility for that.

Most of all, I'm angry with myself. I'm 26. I should be working full-time, living with friends/by myself and not relying on my parents at this point. But I am. I'm just angry and hurt by the situation, and there are so many unanswered questions. None which I feel I have the right to even ask, never mind get answers to.

Wow, that was long.

So yeah, that was on Friday. Saturday morning was when I woke up and things had "changed".

Coincidence?..

Pushing Through?..

I haven't written for a few days because things have been going well. I seem to have less to say when I'm feeling better- I've been busy with non-eating disordered things, applying for jobs, planning, planning and more planning. I've been eating better, sleeping better- altogether on a far more even keel. I've been excited about the future again and pushing away any negativity and doing what I need to do in order to MAKE a future.

Until yesterday.

I don't know what happened, or why my mood crashed or *what* happened. I just suddenly realised that I had no desire to do anything, nothing concrete to hold on to. My dreams and hopes suddenly seemed incredibly unattainable and childish. I got up yesterday, on autopilot, ate my breakfast and stared at the wall for an hour. Went back to bed and slept for 3 hours. Got up and didn't really do anything all day. It's VERY unlike me to not even go for a walk, but I had no desire to even brush my hair, never mind pick a play list on my iPod, throw on my scarf and hit the streets. I ploughed through the day somehow, hoping that today would be different. I followed my planned meals, acted "as if"- hating myself for eating, hating myself for making the couple phone calls I mustered up the motivation to make, for filling out the forms sitting on my desk. I did it anyway thinking that today would feel different. Better.

Today has been a similar story. Got up at a ridiculous hour (4:30 am), ate breakfast on autopilot, stared at the walls and went back to bed and stared at the ceiling. Decided I might feel better if I got out and DID something so walked for a couple of hours in the freezing cold until I couldn't stand being outside anymore.

I've been home for a few hours and everything feels wrong somehow. I'm tired. I feel deflated, hopeless, despondent. I don't know what the answer is right now- nothing has changed from 3 days ago to now. I just don't feel motivated anymore.

Maybe I went too fast? Maybe I didn't go fast enough? Maybe I did too much, too little, the wrong things? I don't know. I wish, wish, WISH I could go back in time to 18 months ago and try to do things differently. Or 2 years ago. Or 3. Hell, 15, and see if knowing what I do now, things could be different.

(not that this way of thinking is actually helping anything...)

A Few Words To My Mother (vent)

I'm definitely recognising a pattern in my mood fluctuations. Daytime is generally better. Weekends are hard, and evenings are often unbearable. I am linking this to a few things- evenings, I am definitely tired. That's a big on. I don't recognise "low energy", but I feel the pain and despair growing as darkness falls. Another factor is that my mom is home in the evenings and on weekends.

I mentioned before about certain people causing obstacles in my recovery, and the need to break off contact. For now, I am living with my mom so there is very little I can do. I am SO grateful to have a roof over my head, but I'm starting to wish I had taken the offer of going down the "psych unit --> homeless hostel" route instead. I can't relax around her. I feel like I need to be constantly proving myself. Proving that I am not useless, not worthless, not destined to live my life in institutions. I find myself applying for jobs, flat-hunting, making phone calls, etc, PURELY to avoid the barrage of insults and accusations. Honestly? I'm scared of her. I'm scared of her judgements, her verbal assaults, her screaming and yelling. I'm spending money I don't have to buy food for both of us to avoid *that* issue being thrown in my face. I refuse to turn lights or heating on to avoid *that* issue. I clean up after she goes to work and again once she has gone to bed to avoid *that* issue. I'm constantly on edge around her which just adds fuel to the fire. We sit down for dinner (I cook) and it feels like "X-Factor". Me, rattling off the list of oh-so-productive things I have done that day. Yet it's never enough. It's not enough for ME and it's most definitely not enough for her. Why didn't I go to a pottery class? Why didn't I go to the library? Why didn't I join a club/write a novel/win a Nobel prize/climb Mount Everest?

Why? Well, dear mother...let me tell you something. I am struggling right now to keep my head above water. I am painfully AWARE of the fact that I DON'T have a degree, I DON'T have an active social life and I DON'T work in some high-flying well-paying job. I do not need reminded, time and time again, that I am too old to be living with my mother/need to get structure into my days/need to get a life. I can't do it all at once. If what I am doing right now is stopping me from overdosing again, then that's enough. If what I am doing right now is improving my physical state so I CAN start enjoying things again, then yes...that's a priority. I'm sorry if this doesn't sit well with you. It was hardly my life plan either m'dear. BUT, I am moving forward. I am taking steps. I have an interview tomorrow for part-time volunteer work. I have broken out of my "oatmeal for dinner" routine. I am reading the news again. I am in touch with my friends. I'm SORRY I can't just be *fixed* purely because YOU are frustrated with the situation. Trust me... I feel my own frustration with this all.

What Should I Do With My Life?..

In order to avoid falling into the same panic as I have been, decided maybe writing down my thoughts/feelings and the facts might help me figure out what I am going to do from here.

Backtrack a little...

The plan when I returned from London was as follows:

- get involved in local Buddhist community events
- use the limited support available from eating disorders service to the best of my ability
- enrol in a part-time course to brush up on computing skills, etc so that when I do move back to NY, have better job prospects
- look for part-time work (either voluntary or paid)

Then I got a phone call this afternoon from the eating disorders team in London saying that day treatment MIGHT be an option for me. Which would mean delaying New York and somehow figuring out a way to live in London whilst engaging in treatment. This poses a few problems. First of all, London treatment was the better of the UK options available to me. It's hardly great treatment. Better than what I have right now, but I'm not convinced that it's reason enough to move (initially had been combination of school AND college). I know and trust this program, but again, the treatment for adults in the UK isn't about recovery in any way/shape/form, and I don't want the stress of moving to spend 5-6 months in a day program where the goal is to "live with my anorexia". I've pretty much made up my mind that I *will* recover and will do anything for that to happen. I don't know if I can do it myself, but I am not convinced that going back to London PURELY for the day program is a wise move.

But it MIGHT work. Yes, I would much rather work things out here whilst living in a semi-stable environment, focus on learning/work/community activities/socialising but again, I don't know how well that is going to work out...it's pretty much what I did when I came back this time last year.

There is so much to consider. So many options and so many limitations.

A few things I am certain about...

- I want to live in New York
- in order to DO that, I need to be in a strong enough position mentally and physically to hold down a full-time job and not *need* so much input from medical team
- friends are what keep me going. It's my social life and the culture in New York that I absolutely LOVE
- I need to recover. No more time to waste pissing around, trying to "stabilise", pretending I am tryingreallyhard when I know I could be pushing myself a LOT harder than I am

The real question is, how do I get from where I am to where I want to be? If I get the opportunity, do I try the day program in London? Or do I try to work with what's on offer in Scotland? Or do I brush it off and focus on building a life for myself based around community support/the real world and try to 'squeeze' my eating disorder out of my life? Or do I go into an inpatient program in NY (refeeding- nothing more) and hope that with weight gain comes something more? (Kind of "been there, done that").

Aaaaaargh. I'm so confused.

Yet More Whining

Being back in New York, albeit briefly, is causing a whirlwind of emotions. There is a part of me that wishes I could live here and wants to try, again, to somehow make it work. Then there is the other part of me that is overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle, the bright lights, the craziness and can't wait to leave. I'm feeling unsettled, anxious. I'm still not sleeping, and spend my days walking (and walking, and walking). I'm spending as much time as possible with other people and for the most part, enjoy it. I LIKE the fun stuff I do with my friends, and my laughter is genuine...and for moments, I forget.

I forget what it was like when I did live here. I forget what it was like in London. I forget the mess of the last couple of months. I forget that I leave New York on Thursday, and have nowhere to go when I leave the plane. I forget that I have no concrete plans beyond this week, because...well, who knows what landing back in London really means.

I feel like I am in some kind of limbo period. I'm not sure what my next move will be and I lack the patience or clarity in thought to give it any real consideration. I'm exhausted- not in the sense of jet-lag/overexertion, but in the sense that I don't want to DO this anymore.

I'm tired of the constant barrage of thoughts dominating my brain. I don't know how to make it go away- some say weight gain, others suggest medication, some say psychoanalysis, CBT, DBT. I've spent more time talking to psychologists than I have to my own brothers. I've tried eating my damn chicken salad sandwich and drinking whole milk. I've taken the anti-depressants/benzos/sedatives/mood stabilisers/anti-psychotics. There is no magical fix. Food isn't the answer. Medication isn't the answer. Therapy, relaxation, hobbies, friends/family, avoidance...sure, they all have their place and at times have been invaluable, but in terms of long-term stability? I'm starting to wonder if there IS such a thing.

I don't want to try anymore. I'm sick of doctors, hospitals, group therapy, affirmations, meal plans, drugs. I'm sick of pretending I am fine and falling flat on my face because in my haste to be "normal", I forget to eat or sleep. I am sick of wanting a life where I am not bound by the chains of anorexia, yet not knowing how to break free.

I want an answer. I want to know how the hell to get OUT of this mess. Because as time goes by, my options are becoming more and more limited, my vision becoming more and more narrowed. As yet another door is slammed in my face, I become more and more drawn to desperate measures to make it all just *stop*.

In Over My Head

I wish I could adequately articulate what’s going on right now, without sounding melodramatic or repetitive. The truth is that I *am* under a huge amount of stress right now. Valid stress, not just what I perceive to be stress. I am beyond grateful to have a roof over my head for the next few weeks, but really… I am homeless. I have no true roots right now, and no guarantee that I will have a place to call “home” in the near future.

I’m terrified that I have screwed up my life beyond repair. I’m in a complete mess in every aspect, and not quite sure how to change it. Emotionally, physically, educationally, financially, socially. There IS no magical answer, no “quick-fix”. I feel like everything I have been clinging to with regards to my eating disorder, is the ONE THING that remains constant through all of this- and that makes recovery not only unrealistic right now, but damn near impossible.

I literally have nothing else.

I don’t know how to go about sorting out the chaos around me. To somehow wake up tomorrow with a full-time job that I can cope with, a place to live that I feel safe in and can afford, and without all the physical/emotional baggage that comes with years of anorexia.

It may seem obvious. Stop right now, start walking the recovery path, etc. Does it really ALL come back to eating more and gaining weight? That isn’t going to erase the last few months/years. It isn’t going to transport me back to happier times. It isn’t going to guarantee that the future will be brighter, just that I won’t have any offer of help to deal with it.

This sounds so bleak and hopeless, and yet so over-the-top “woe is me”. I don’t know. My thoughts are as jumbled and chaotic as this entry is. Everything seems both so simple and so complicated at the same time.

Lack Of Therapy = Lack Of Thought

I have now moved. I’ve been here a little over 24 hours, and already am feeling the strain. Everything feels so unfamiliar, so daunting, so complicated. I’m struggling with the disruption in my routines, new environment, the crowds, the uncertainty. I’m finding things difficult that for so long have been easy for me- little things like buying a sandwich for lunch suddenly seem so complex and intimidating. I feel like arrows of anxiety and fear are firing at me, and I’m being beaten to the ground by invisible blows. I’m scared to go outside, scared to eat, scared to sleep, scared to breathe.

I am very aware of the fact that if I don’t get a grip, and soon, this is all going to come crashing down and end in disaster.

I need to enrol in college.

I need to find somewhere to live.

I need to, somehow, find a balance and be able to juggle “life” with the demons that continue to plague me wherever I move to.

Since coming back from New York, I haven’t been in therapy, and it was only yesterday that I realised quite how much this is impacting my world. Not only have I stopped talking about how I am feeling or what I am doing- I’ve stopped thinking about it. I’ve become increasingly drawn into the shadows of my eating disorder, because it’s just too easy to let it’s grips tighten when my voice is silenced. And in the silence, anorexia grows more and more powerful, until my voice is completely mute. My world shrinks and expands directly in proportion to the extent of my ability to step outside of myself and look objectively at the correlation between “me” and “anorexia”. Looking at what drives my behaviours helps me to understand exactly what’s going on and what I need to do about it. On the flip-side (NOT looking at it) I then get caught up in the web of anorexia until once again, I am too entangled to even have the motivation to try and find a way out.

I’m struggling, and I’m scared.

Whose Life Is This Anyway?..

"Serenity isn't freedom from the storm; it is peace within the storm."

I want to say that things are going really well. That life's great, my job is amazing, my social life has never been better and my creativity is soaring high, taking me to places I only ever dreamed of. None of that would be true. It seems that whilst things are going well on one level, on another, they are falling apart. I'm not sure exactly how one feeds into the other- whether or not there is some kind of correlation between things going well/me starting to crumble. My guess is that there are a hundred therapists out there that would like to say that I like to suffer and therefore "punish" myself when my life is not overly messy for once. My theory is that I am a terrible multitasker. Plain and simple. I can't do too many things at once. I can focus 100% on something and do it amazingly well, using my powers (A-HA!) for good or evil (for lack of a better word!) but as soon as I take on more than one thing, my focus switches onto my new/exciting project and I forget about the other balls I am juggling.

Example: When I've been in hospital and had nothing else to focus on but recovery, I do really well. I work hard, I do my affirmations, I eat properly, sleep well- basically become a master or everything which does not come second nature to me (for some unknown reason). Then I leave, and think, "okay- back in the real world, I'll get a job!". Fine in theory, oh-so-much harder in practice. Immediately my focus switches. MUST.EXCEL.AT.WORK. I work 24/7, go the extra mile, rush into the office 2 hours early, stay up late doing additional work. I stop sleeping ("I don't have TIME anymore") I stop eating ("far too busy to think about food"*) and eventually I wind up in a situation where I have to quit working and go back to basics. How To Eat 101.

I wonder how people do actually manage to *live*- to juggle work, social life, hobbies, relationships, responsibilities, etc, whilst also managing to get a decent amount of sleep, food, air. I feel rather dysfunctional in comparison. How they deal with the ups and downs of life without calling into work sick and walking until they crack bones in their ankles. How they deal with the hum-drum mundaneness that is so often *life* without daydreaming about starving themselves to death. How do people function? Or do they just NOT function in a slightly less obvious way?

Whose to say what's normal?

Maybe what I am doing is the same as everybody else. Maybe everyone else also feels the same inadequacies, inability to cope, utter panic and overwhelming anxiety at the future ahead of them. Maybe they just deal with it differently?.. Or maybe they don't deal with it at all? Maybe they just hope that things will work out? Maybe they are happy deep down with who they are and so nothing else really shakes them to their core.

Maybe my problem really is just that I base my entire self-worth on external aspects of life and believe that I cannot afford to do anything less than 100%- I don't matter as a person so if I stop eating/sleeping, it's not a big deal. Screwing up at work? THAT'S a big deal. Hurt somebody's feelings? DISASTER. My life really isn't about *me* at all.


* the irony is, as anyone who is familiar with the Minnesota Starvation Study will know, a starving body/mind thinks of nothing BUT food