"Dem Bones Dem Bones Need Calcium"

Everything about moving has fallen apart in a rather dramatic fashion. I was due to fly on Tuesday, have yet to change my flights but there is no way I can go. My apartment fell through in a web of betrayal, deceit and...well, mystery to be honest. I'm not quite sure what to believe at this point, or why things unfolded the way they did, but needless to say, my dreams to go back to New York in time for Christmas have been shattered. I can't really say more about it than that- I'm still reeling from the blink-of-an-eye way in which the coming months so quickly took shape, and then in a similar blink-of-an-eye way crumbled.

Other than that, things are kind of the same. Or not. I had gone to the doctor for blood tests last week to try and figure out why I am STILL sleeping 15 hours a day, STILL too dizzy and tired to do anything, STILL feeling like I have been hit by a bus. The lab results came normal, then the receptionist giving the results asked me if I had spoken to the doctor about my x-ray. What x-ray?!!! Turns out that my trip to the ER a couple of weeks ago resulted in bringing to light an abnormality in my spine. It seems that my spine is starting to curve- which explains the 3 inches of jutting vertebrae constantly rubbing on my chair. One word: osteoporosis. yes, at the age of 26, I am developing a hunchback.

Drink your milk kids.

I don't quite know what to say about this either. I'm going to meet with my doctor on Monday and see from there, I guess? I don't really know much about osteoporosis. I was diagnosed almost 7 years ago and deny it as much as I can. A quick google brings up images of x-rays that churn my stomach. Ignorance is bliss. Though I can't ignore the fact that I have to sit on buses and trains at an angle because the plastic bangs into my back awkwardly.

On a different note, I stumbled upon this tidbit of information today:

"your brain, which requires at least one fifth of your daily caloric intake to function properly"

who knew?..

Everything's Changed (Back To What It Was?..)

I last posted over a week ago. Things haven't really changed from a physical point of view. I'm still sleeping insane amounts, still feeling horribly unwell and still no clue what is actually going on with my body right now. Different people have different theories- adrenal fatigue, food intolerance's, depression, thyroid problem. It's all being investigated.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday night I started exchanging emails with a really good friend of mine in New York. Turned out, she is moving into a new apartment this week and looking for a roommate. Within 24 hours, I had booked flights, made appointments with a psychiatrist and therapist and am all set to go.

How do you know if you are doing the right thing?..

The reasons I left New York remain pretty much unchanged. The reasons why I want to leave Edinburgh so badly are accumulating by the day. I *need* to get out of Edinburgh and New York is the "easiest" option (as in, I know the city, have somewhere to live, etc). I don't know if it's going to work out this time. I pretty much stopped caring about ANYTHING somewhere amidst my move to London, and that also remains unchanged. I don't want to go back, but honestly? I don't want to be anywhere right now. I am NOT (for the record) suicidal. Hell, I don't want to be dead anymore than I want to be alive right now.

Something in the emails sparked *something* in me, and maybe now that the initial excitement has worn off, am just overwhelmed by moving, yet again, and the increasing frustration with the situation in Edinburgh.

I don't know what to do, and I don't know what my options are right now. There are so many "pros" to moving, and far less for staying. Lots of cons on either side. Nothing feels quite right about this, and I can't think straight enough to figure it all out myself. But I don't actually have anyone in real life to talk this over with...(and yes, I am aware how pathetic this is).

When Your Body Says, "Enough"

Really, I probably shouldn't be surprised. I treat my body like crap for years, then get incredibly angry and frustrated when all of a sudden, it says, "whoa... I'm not taking this anymore". It seems, I don't know. Irritating. I feel like it's MY body and it should damn well behave how I want it to, do what I expect it to. Not turn around and slap me in the face like a wet fish. Lol. Sorry- not funny. true, but not funny.

The has been prompted by a mystery "virus" that I have now had for almost two weeks. I should point out, that eating disorder aside, I never get sick. I can't remember the last time I had a cold, cough, stomach bug or anything. Then all of a sudden, two weeks ago, I start sleeping for an extra 3-4 hours a day, joints aching, nausea, stomach pains. I attributed it to my sudden (though not drastic by any means) change in my diet. I was actually feeling on top of things and increasing my intake/variety in foods, and thought that perhaps my body was just getting accustomed to a new routine.

Fast forward to the past weekend and I figure, "hey- I'm just lying around in bed...maybe I should cut back on my food a little, go back to what I was having and see if I feel any better". That lasted a total of 3 days before I ended up in the emergency room, hooked up to oxygen and fluids, with dangerously low blood pressure and pulse rate.

I don't know if I DO have a virus and just lack the immune system to fight it off properly. Or if my body is finally trying to put a stop to the hell I have been putting it through. Or WHAT''S going on. My blood tests aren't showing up any kind of infection warranting antibiotics or "treatment". I've been told to rest and return if symptoms don't improve.

Part of me feels like this should be an epiphany moment- an "aha- the human body is remarkable, I'm so sorry, let me repent and I'll do good from here forward", and the other part is like, "WTF BODY? I'll change in my OWN time".

I am changing. I am making progress. I feel more of a pull towards recovery than anorexia right now. But I know me and I know that I am going to be mighty pissed if I put in loads of effort to eat better, gain weight, do all the stuff they told me in my nutrition groups and am STILL completely unable to stay awake for more than 3 hours, or walk to Starbucks.

I feel like I have to do the emotional work before I do the physical work. I don't think it's as simple as that since they are so entwined, but... I don't know. I can't DO the physical aspect without working on the mental stuff, and the mental issues? I don't even know where to begin. It's such a catch-22.

Anyone got advice about where to start?.. :/

Wordless

Something propelled me tonight to come here, log in, and click the "new post" button.

I have nothing to say.

I'm not "depressed", but there is this lingering wall of sadness standing strong around me. I'm tired. For no reason. I'm sleeping for about 12-14 hours a day. I've done absolutely nothing productive the last few days. I sit, I stare at the wall, I think, I try not to think. I start making lists, then tear them up and start over. I have an ever-growing stack of mail piling up that I'm not remotely interested in opening. About 10 unread text messages in my voice, several unplayed voicemail messages. I stare at the computer and click from one link to a next. I'm not reading or even looking. I'm being weird and I'm well aware of that. I just don't know WHY.

I microwaved an Amy's burrito for lunch today. Stared at it for half an hour then stuck it in the fridge. Dinner time rolled around and I pulled out the damp plate with the cold burrito sitting on it. I sat and ate in silence. I couldn't taste it, couldn't feel it in my mouth or going down my throat.

I feel completely dead inside.

Maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful is recognizing what you have for what it is, appreciating small victories, admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know and maybe we're thankful for the things we will never know. At the end of the day the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

-Grey's Anatomy

I Don't Want To Grow Old (With Anorexia)

Do you ever think about the future? Stupid question, perhaps- everyone thinks about the future in some way. Whether it's planning dinner or picturing a wedding, the fact that time doesn't *stop* is one thing that is certain in life. I mean, do you ever think about when you are older, say 30 or 40 years from now, and you are looking back at your life?..

It hit me this evening that I am terrified of growing old, spending my years like the recent few. I am terrified of reaching the age of 80 having not eaten my own birthday cake since I was 11, of not eating my mom's cooking when I had the chance, of not eaten a piece of pie at Thanksgiving. I'm scared that time is moving too fast- that I'm going to wake up and my life could be over. Having never had a real job for any length of time, never had a meaningful relationship, never had a day where I didn't obsess about food/weight.

I'm TERRIFIED, not that I will die as a direct result of my eating disorder, but that I will live my life in the grips of an eating disorder. If you can call it living.

I remember when I was diagnosed, at the age of 12, with anorexia. It never occurred to me that I would be dealing with this for more than a few months. I didn't think it was POSSIBLE to struggle with this well into my 20's. I am now 26, which means that over half of my life has been consumed by this disease. The thought of another year is bad enough- the thought of a lifetime of this? A "lifetime" is a long-ass time!

I want to change. I need to change. There MUST be another way. There MUST be more than this.

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...)