With every day that passes, I grow more and more determined to resurrect my life. I am very fed up with the twilight state I currently inhabit. No independence, no freedom. It gets old.
I’m struggling with my body in a major way. Eating disorders are insidious little things. Just when you think you have a handle on it, it all crashes onto you again with nowhere to run.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be free.
Back to my parents, and have had a wonderful weekend with friends who (bemusingly) genuinely seem to like me. And my partner doesn’t want to knock me out with a spanner, so I’m going to tentatively assume I managed a social situation without behaving like a total knob.
A new week. I’m trying to learn how to assert my needs and enjoy what I do, with variable degrees of success. Small things with my partner, my parents. Things like where we’re going to move to when we do, what we want for our lives. I am trying to be strong.
I am tired. I am really tired. It’s a depression thing. I know it is. The weekend has completely exhausted me; I was with friends for the duration, new people happened, travelling happened. People in general exhaust me at the moment. Occupational hazard of only being a week out of inpatient, too, but there we have it.
It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It just takes a bit of time.
(Or: Acute Inpatient – Day Eleven)
Well. Today I got discharged – which means at the time of writing, I AM HOME!!!
It’s lovely to be home. My partner picked me up quite late, so I spent the day on the ward – more of the same as I have been, TV and some writing, and taking the time to keep my brain level and get ready for the world on discharge.
I am going to be okay. I have six weeks, starting from today, to stay stable and sane(ish) and I believe I can do it.
(Or: Acute Inpatient – Day Ten)
Tonight is, hopefully, my last night in hospital. I am very ready to go home. Not much else to say right now; I’ll have a longer one tomorrow, when I’m actually somewhere with WiFi. Blogging on a phone is remarkably annoying. Plus I haven’t been able to answer comments and things so thank you so much everybody who has, I promise I’ll reply ASAP!
For now? Good night.
(Or: Acute Inpatient, Take Two – Day Nine)
Had the foresight to write this before the heavy duty sedatives kick in so I can type a touch more coherently! Only sad thing is that there is sod all to write about. Today had been very quiet and very calm, and I have started to feel like a human being again. And I mean an actual human, not a walking constellation of symptoms like I have been for a long time.
Things feel more proportionate. It isn’t simple or easy and yes, I still have a complete lack of emotional regulation but I am starting to see a future and that’s terrifying and wonderful.
There is so much work to be done. I have a lot of self to understand and come to terms with. I have serious health problems that will be with me for the rest of my life, but I don’t want to be afraid any more, I’ve spent my life being afraid of myself and in doing so, distanced myself from it, tried to split myself into Me vs Illness and in doing so engendered so much fear.
And perhaps I am waxing lyrical right now, and it won’t last indefinitely. I needed this admission. I needed the time. The space. The dependent independence that inpatient brings.
I have also, since all this shit started, just wanted to know what would happen to me. And now I know. Now I have six weeks clear to be strong, and some waiting, and finally real, long-term help. I have a plan. And that means my life is being projected for two years, there is something out there, further than now.
It’s a start.
(Or: Acute Inpatient – Day Eight)
Sailing on the novel sensation of good news from the NHS, I am taking time while inpatient to try and come to some decisions and theories as to what I can do when I am in steady therapy and able to restart my life.
One of my big things is prioritising. I am engaged. I love my partner more than I can ever express, and I am going to marry her. I have been so hesitant. When your own mortality is in question, forward planning is very hard – and planning good things in particular feels impossible.
I also love to sing, act. Perform. And I owe it to myself to love it, and not let the practicalities of this industry destroy me. I have forgotten how to be happy.
I also truly, honestly love my job as a tutor. I am a good teacher, and my kids mean the world to me.
I am starting to ready myself for something new and familiar, all at once, and I know I need to tread carefully to avoid the familiar pitfalls.
At the moment, I cannot see a life without bulimia. This is my biggest problem. It haunts me every single bloody day. I have not purged AT ALL in hospital, which is miraculous, but I think about it almost constantly.
But look, basically things are looking up. Let’s hope it continues.
(Or: Acute Inpatient, Take Two – Day Seven)
AMAZING THINGS ARE HAPPENING.
Huge meeting happened today, eight in attendance, all discussing my care. The short version is that there is a two year (yes, two YEAR) programme of outpatient therapy they think that I’d be perfect for. It’s intensive, focused therapy BUT allows me to maintain real life.
The catch? I need six weeks of stability first. From the moment I am discharged from here, I can start that countdown.
I’m deliriously happy. I never imagined this as an option.
And you can fucking bet I’ll last six weeks.