I'm not Bulimic

...but my doctor thinks otherwise.

I went for my blood tests on Wednesday, and I saw on their screen that I have binge eating and they're checking electrolyte levels after vomiting afterwards. Godfuckingdamnit. On my medical records, forever.

Anyway, work's been going well. I'm getting the hang of taking calls and working the system and whatnot. A lot of folk at work are turning out to be kind of bitchy, but some are really nice, and I have to admit I'm pretty attracted to someone who works there. 

I am having boyfriend trouble. As in, it's-pretty-much-over trouble. 

I've been comfort eating and feel like shit because of it.

I'm not happy it's the weekend. At least at work I have something to do and it doesn't matter how bad everything else is. I'm going to feel so lost, especially as my mood has plummeted, and I'm in one of my worst depressive episodes in a while. 

Back Down Again

I love work, it's great. I'm doing really well at the training, and I get on well with everyone there. It's friendly and no too stressful. It keeps me busy. I'm able to eat a little bit for lunch, usually a piece of fruit and a packet of crisps. It's nice, I don't care about hunger, and I'm not so paranoid about my weight. I've had comments from people about how I'm thin and must weigh so little. Yesterday I had two guys smile awkwardly at me and say hi as I was waiting to get a lift home. I still feel some guilt for eating anything after tea, but I'm more comfortable with my body. 

My mood started going down again yesterday though. The paranoia is there. I mentioned being in hospital to the man I get a lift home from. That should have been a sign it was going bad again. I'm suddenly scanning through me mind picking at all my interactions with other people and tearing them apart, convinced there's something wrong there. I feel physically sick when I eat, and I know it's just anxiety but it's not helpful when my family are determined to have so many snacks. I'm really scared, if I'm honest. In the morning yesterday it was awful but I managed to cheer myself up a little and keep talking to people. 

The second I got home it all crashed down. I went for a walk, as usual, thinking it would cheer me up, and I found myself thinking about my overdose, and how I calculated how much I needed to kill me without taking enough to make me pass out and be sick. The look on the doctor's face when he asked how much I'd taken will never leave me. It feels like it was the most honest moment of my life. I know overdoses rarely work, and the doctors and nurses were treating me like a joke until they heard how much I'd taken. I felt a bit ashamed. I never thought about how much it would hurt anyone, to be fair I was so trapped in my depression that everything was distorted and I thought it would be better for everyone. It was the look on the doctor's face that got through to me. I keep reminding myself of it just now. Instead of having a calm walk to make me feel better I spent the entire time making plans to kill myself. I have ideas there, ready, and I'm scared that the slightest thing will trigger them and I'll do it. 

I don't think I want to die, but I really can't tell.

First Day of Work

Work was pretty fun today. I was surprised at how confident I felt. It was great going out and being around lots of people. The training work was pretty boring, but it's something to do.

I ate an apple and a packet of crisps. I felt bad for the crisps but I can work them off later. There's free coffee there too, which is great at cutting my appetite. 

I phoned up the psychologist place and cancelled my appointment, and told them I'd be in touch when I knew when I'd be free. I get a horrible feeling I'm not going to be able to go back. While I'm fine with that now, when my mood drops I'm going to need that support.

Holy Crap I Have a Job

Yes. Work!

About an hour after my interview at the call centre they called me back and asked me to start tomorrow!

So good! While I'm in training I'll be there from 9 to 5, so I can get a lift in the mornings with my stepmum. I'm a bit nervous but mostly just excited. I'll have something to do! Plus it'll be easier to not eat as much, it won't be noticed. I've got my clothes sorted for tomorrow, already laid out.

I'll have to get in touch with the college and leave. I'll also not be able to see the psychologist for a while, which will be not so good, but I can survive until I start properly working and get varied shift times and whatnot.

Vania Zouravliov

Vania Zouravliov has some of the most beautiful drawings I've seen.

These ones seem oddly appropriate for today.

Weekend and FAT

I hate the weekend. My family are around and so I have to eat breakfast and lunch and whatever snacks they push my way. It's horribly fattening stuff as well! Like today, we had chicken fingers and baked potato for lunch, and we're having pizza and chips for tea. Sometime this afternoon we're having chocolate fudge cake and ice cream.

GODDAMN IT!

I can feel the pounds piling back on after my hard work to lose weight. I can't even purge, my parents would hear! It wouldn't be quite as bad if I could avoid the snacks but my parents get suspicious if I refuse any food whatsoever, then start watching my eating habits again.

I already feel huge. My stomach is bloated and fat. The worst thing is, I'll probably enjoy that cake later, but I'll hate myself for it.

I can't wait until the weekend's over. 

Good Girls Don't Swallow

Wow, ok, so the pawnbroker guy phoned up and offered me a part-time job for when they sort stuff out, so about a month away. I accepted, of course, but if I get the call-center job I'll feel bad for having to call up and say I can't work. I'll worry about it if and when it happens.

Anyway, something I meant to mention yesterday. See, in the morning there was some coffee and walnut cake left out for me. I meant to coat it in salt or washing-up liquid so I couldn't eat it (I couldn't throw it out straight away, I can't waste food that way) but I left it too late, and I knew that I would eat the cake. So, I had a brainwave. 

I would chew it, enjoy the delicious cake, savour the taste, then spit it out. 

I did, and it was brilliant. I got to enjoy the cake without actually eating it. All the taste-zero calories :P

Makeover

I decided the red was too gloomy, hope you like the new layout :)

Possible Job?

Yesterday I filled out an online application for a call-centre in a nearby town that's hiring. I thought I'd hear back soon, but what I wasn't expecting was getting a phone call this morning asking if I could do a telephone interview right then. After that I did an online assessment testing stuff like checking codes and whatnot. Five minutes after I finished it I got another call saying I passed and that they want me to go in on Sunday for a proper interview and a tour of the place. I think I stand a good chance of getting a job. Also, on Sunday my family are going through to that town so they can take me and show me where the place is, which is good considering I don't have money for the bus!

I also managed to finish my college assignment that's due in at 5pm. I did a great job. I don't care how arrogant it sounds, it really was a good piece of work. I can't wait to hear back about it.

On a slightly less positive note, guess who binged and purged, then went on to binge and purge again? 

How did you guess it was me? Was it the bleeding knuckle? The disgusting breath? Maybe the fact that my entire body is shaking?

See after I purged the first time the plan was to just eat something small and keep it down. Never works that way though. Thank you very much body, you're just so desperate to gain back those calories. In all fairness I think it's quite admirable how our bodies make us want to binge if we've restricted for a while, it's self-preservation. I just wish there was an off switch.

:D

I feel good today, really good. 

I had college, where I was able to pick up a lot of the answers for an assignment I'm supposed to hand in tomorrow. I was also able to to address the rest of the class a couple of times and state my viewpoints, my confidence was great! I came out of the room feeling almost proud.

I managed to complete and submit a job application just a minute ago. It's for working in a primary school assisting with children who need more support, like those with learning and behaviour problems and disabilities. I really hope I get it. I'd love that job. Also on the job front, the factory where I used to work at are hiring more people soon, so I got a letter asking me to contact them if I was still interested. I phoned up and was asked which of the 3 on-site factories I'd like to work in. Because on of them is too fast and just goes through an insane amount of work in a short time I requested either of the other two. I was in the third one for only one day but I was nearly in tears by the end of it. I really hope I'm offered a job in the factory I was in before, it wasn't too big and I knew where everything was.

I haven't eaten anything yet today, and it's almost 3pm. I feel proud. Not eating means no urge to binge. I am happy!

All-over-body Pain

I'm in agony, I keep bingeing and purging, then restricting. My throat, chest and stomach hurt from making myself sick and the rest of me is in agony from obsessive exercise. 

I have college work to do and I just can't do it, there's no way I can with all these fucked-up thoughts going through my head.

Tonight I'm going to try to sit and go through some of the thoughts about the abuse and practice my grounding exercises. The abuse is one of the roots of my eating problems, maybe this will help a little.

Doctor

I'm going to the doctor shortly. I made the appointment to ask about contraception and stopping smoking but the psychologist says she wants me to request blood tests while I'm there, for electrolyte imbalances.

I'm terrified the doctor will say or do something, and this means that my eating disorder's going on my health records. If it's just with the psychologist and psychiatrist it's all kept quiet, and it's only stuff like medication that gets put on records, not what is actually wrong with you, it's all separate. 

Oh god.

This is going to be there permanently, and potential employers and health insurance companies will see it, and it will be a big black mark against the rest of my life.

Degraded

I've eaten so much today, enough food to last 2 people the whole day. I threw up once. Well, I say once, but it was about 5 times in one "sitting". I feel horrible.

My boyfriend came over today, for sex. It seems like that's all he wants when he comes to the house through the week. He's selfish in bed. He'll go down on me, but only because he knows he can use it to ask me for a lot. I'm fed up of it. I always feel really tired and snap into a daydream during sex. I guess it's a reflex thing from when I was younger.

I feel really fat today. I need to start my exercises again tonight, I'm all flabby. I want to stop tearing my body apart from the inside, but whenever things seem to be going well with eating something crap happens, my self-esteem plummets and I'm back to square one again.

Sunshine

It's been very sunny the past couple of days. I like sitting out in the warm.  I'm going to do a proper update tomorrow, with my family around all the time it's harder to put my thoughts in order.

:)

After typing my last post I felt a huge weight leave me. Instead of trying to push things out of my head and make them seem better than they were I could just look at it and say "that's what happened, I can't change it". 

I've been in a high mood again for the past couple of days, but it feels different that usual. It's like I've been stuck in a glass box watching the world for years and now the walls have vanished. I don't feel so cut off, I feel like I'm part of the world instead of something underneath it. I know that that feeling won't always be so good, but when things get bad again I have this an an example to show myself that it's not always terrible. 

Eating's been ok. I've felt guilty a couple of times and considered purging, but never went through with it. I've been making sure I eat every meal, including breakfast which I've never really liked. I'm having snacks too. It won't always be as easy as it is now, but again I have this example for the future.

I've been reading as well. It's been months since I could read more than a page of a book at a time, but since yesterday my mind's calmed down a bit, letting me focus on things. Instead of a hundred voices and narratives running at once I can choose which ones I want, and keep my thoughts on track. The book is really good. I picked it up in the library on a whim because it had doughnuts on the cover and it didn't sound too terrible. 

It's called This Book Will Save Your Life, and it's by A. M. Homes. The main character is a man who has shut himself off from most people and has this rigidly structured and controlled life. He kind of cracks, and starts feeling the pain of things that have happened in his life, and he pretty much starts to let himself live.

I think one of the reasons I love it so much is because my eating problems have been a way to try to control my life without dealing with my past. It's nice to read about someone moving away from living in a similar way. Still, I'd recommend it to anyone.

Last night I went out with a friend who I don't see often because he goes to university in Aberdeen. We picked up my boyfriend and my friend drove us around all night. It was nice just being in the company of people without having to "do" anything. 

This morning I had a job interview which went really well. A pawnbrokers is opening in my town and they're looking to hire staff, train them, and give them experience working in Aberdeen before the store opens. I really hope I get a job there, it would be interesting work.

Abuse and Living With my Mum

Right. I want to write about the abuse that took place. I need to make myself face up to it, and I'm hoping that this will help. I'm not too good with dates and memories, but the abuse took place when I was about 8, to give you a rough timeline.

When I was very young my parents split up. It had been pretty rocky for a while, and never very good, mainly because of her drinking. I thought the drug use only came later, but I recently found out that I had to be cut out of my mum seven weeks early because I'd stopped growing and started dying. Alcohol and drugs never go well with a fucking unborn child. Anyway, we were left with my mum. She didn't really want us but we were a weapon she could use against my dad. My mum never worked, she has bipolar disorder which she used as an excuse not to work. With my dad gone she was free to have a continuous stream of drinking throughout the day.

She started having a lot of friends over. Most days and every evening she had a few guys over. It was strange but I kept out of the way. It was only when I began noticing they were taking drugs a lot that things started to get unpleasant with my mum. She used to speak to me telling me about cannabis when she was smoking it. They took pills, I'm not sure what, but I think some of them were sedatives of some kind. I was given one when I'd badly hurt my leg and was in agony, and another time when I got crushed underneath a wardrobe. I wasn't taken to the hospital either time, the three children in the house didn't matter to them all. They just wanted us quiet and out of the way. At other times her friends would take some kind of stimulant. She always told me she had a friend who was diabetic, to cover for the syringes she kept in her room. This all made her illness worse. She'd spend a couple of days at a time in her room. Sometimes she wouldn't even drink that much if she hadn't taken a few boxes of wine in with her. She was a zombie. For a couple of days after that she'd be completely wild and energetic. When her friends had drifted off or passed out she'd sometimes wake me up in the early hours of the morning to share some of the great ideas she'd had. I came home from school one day to find she'd painted half the house with some paint she'd found in the shed. It was terrifying, she was so out of control. It wasn't long before my sisters and I didn't really exist to her. I took over looking after them, and tried to make sure we had enough food to eat. 

It was at this point that I started eating for comfort. I was constantly unhappy, and somebody told me that chocolate had chemicals in it that make you happy, so I'd eat a lot of chocolate. I was always very thin, a combination of a fast metabolism and malnutrition I think. I took comfort in school too. I was very good at my work, and praise from my teachers was the closest thing I got to affection. I became a perfectionist with my work.

After a while my mum started to get very short on money. She sold a lot of things, including the tv, meaning that I had no reason to come out of my room when I was at home. She emptied the savings account my family had set up and contributed to for me. She took money from loan sharks. That wasn't enough. More and more bruises appeared on her body from her "friends" and the people she owed money to. She was desperately looking for more ways to find money. It was at this time the abuse started. 

I'm not saying that she set it up, but I can't help but wonder. Her money problems started to vanish after the first time. I doubt she couldn't have known about it. Three men don't go easily missed from a small living room. Nobody ever came upstairs to the bathroom while it was happening, and usually there was someone every ten minutes. It doesn't add up. 

I remember lying in my bed at night, and whenever someone came up the stairs I'd be terrified. I'd close my eyes and listen to their footsteps and pray that they'd walk past to the bathroom. They'd come in, and I'd freeze up. The duvet would be pulled back and they'd rape me. I can't give any more detail, it's too hard. When it was happening I'd pretend I wasn't there and imagine things were different. I did that a lot. Even at school I'd wander around in circles imagining I had a life where things were better. I shut myself off from everything.

I blame myself for it at times, because I never told anyone. I couldn't though. Even if I'd felt able to talk to my mum she wouldn't have listened, and with hindsight I don't think it would have done anything if she'd listened. I didn't see much of my dad, and when I did see him he was really distant. The rare occasion when my mum would speak to me and be nice to me she'd bitch about my dad. I'd be happy to feel liked by her so I'd believe what she said. I couldn't tell my teachers because school was all I really had to be comforted by, and I couldn't risk ruining that. I pushed it to the back of my mind. I couldn't worry about it, I had to look after my sisters. Sometimes when I was really worried that the same would happen to my sisters I had to make myself "available" to protect them. I was and still am very ashamed of that.

Another reason why I kept quiet was because of church. Our mum would take us to a baptist church. They were the stereotypical American fundamentalists. I'd hear them say that if you had sex before being married then you'd go to hell. I was only young but thanks to a wonderfully informative book we had in the house I knew exactly what was happening. I loved church before that. It didn't matter that everything was fucked up because there was this unconditional love from God. That vanished, and it was replaced by guilt.

I made myself forget about it. I had to while we were there. When we eventually went to live with my dad I couldn't tell him in case it upset him. I think I was worried that he'd decide he didn't want me and send me back to my mum. After a while I felt it was too late to tell him, and that he wouldn't believe me, and I didn't want to make everything unhappy again by bringing it up. I tried to forget that it ever happened, and it kind of worked. I always told myself it didn't happen, and the memories of it went away. I had big blanks in my memory, things that didn't make sense because I forgot about it. It sounds really simple to put it that way. It didn't completely go away, obviously. At night I'd hear the sound of someone walking up the stairs. made excuses for it, and my mind settled on it being a monster. I'd have strange dreams and wake up confused. I couldn't sleep unless I had the duvet wrapped tightly around me so it couldn't be pulled away. I didn't feel safe at night.

About a year ago I spent three weeks in a psychiatric ward, where I remembered it all. I think I'd started remembering before I went in, which would explain why everything hit the fan, resulting in me going into hospital in the first place. Since then I can't really stop thinking about it. The nightmares are awful. I'm woken up by them at least twice a night. I have moments when something reminds me of the experiences and for a moment it's like I'm back there again. I still hear the sound of someone coming up the stairs at night, despite my room being on the ground floor. 

I can sometimes sleep on my back without pinning the duvet under me now. That's something I guess.

Small Step in the Right Direction

Last night I ate crisps with my friends, then later my boyfriend was hungry so we had pizza and garlic bread and I didn't purge! I admit the thought did cross my mind a few times but I kept reminding myself that I want to get better.

This morning I had great fun at the jobcentre. I was excused last week because I had my university visit, but the woman didn't fill out the paperwork, so I had a man today suggesting I made it up and decided not to go along. Luckily I was sent over to a nice woman who asked me a few questions, filled out a form and then told me "there's nothing to worry about, you informed us you were going and were given permission, so it's not your fault this is happening, someone just messed up." Hopefully I'll still get my money, I need to pay back my boyfriend for the money we had to use when we got stuck in Aberdeen.

I've just had breakfast, 2 slices of toast. I feel good about eating it, and I don't feel too tempted to use it as an excuse to binge. I'm feeling positive about this.

Last night my boyfriend came over for tea. He brought me beautiful roses. I told him I had period issues so I could make myself sick after tea and again after pudding. I did the same after lunch today when he was here.

I've had my fingers down my throat countless times today. I hate myself for it. I want it to stop.

When I'm focusing on food and being hungry I don't have to think about the abuse. It's the one time when it's not there but the second I think about getting better it's right at the front of my mind again. 

I know I need to face what happened. I plan to write about it here, if I feel able to. It's such a huge part of who I am now that when I try to keep it all inside me it just shows itself in different ways, like my eating disorder, self-injury and hallucinations.

I'm going to put the age thing on my blog now too. If I'm going to write about things like that I should at least let people know it's not ideal kiddie reading.

I have a friend coming over to watch movies soon. I'll eat some snacks. Hopefully I'll keep them down.

I want out. I want to get rid of my eating disorder. I just want to eat normally and not obsess, I want to get rid of the misery and guilt surrounding food. I don't even want to be thin really. I want to be healthy. I want to be better but there's this voice in my head that just WON'T FUCKING LET ME.

Oh Dear

I need to get this worry out my system.

I'm cooking tea for my boyfriend tonight, and he's bringing pudding. The problem is I can't eat it! 

My family are away until tuesday and I want to fast until they get back. Before they left we had lunch. After they'd left I scarfed an easter egg then promptly threw up the lot. I don't want anything in my stomach. Despite the fast-food I ate in Glasgow I've lost weight. Possibly from not exercising while I was there, muscle mass loss and whatnot.

Anyway, rambling a bit. I can say I feel ill, push it around my plate. I may be able to purge, but he knows I do it so he might try to stop me. I don't know.

Pretty Sleepless Night

I had what has to be one of the worst nightmares in a long time last night.

I'm used to having memories of rape coming up in dreams, changing them into something horrible, but this was different.

In this dream I was walking up the street in broad daylight with a rather creepy man following me talking about rape. I was worried so I mentioned something to say that no matter what happened to me my family would know exactly where I was. I went to turn away from him and he asked for a goodbye kiss and I refused. He grabbed me and pushed me onto the ground where he climbed on top of me and started trying to take my trousers off. I saw people coming up the street and I screamed and waved at them. They ran up and pulled me away and I was safe.

Comparing the dream itself to my usual ones it would seem better, but it's more the meaning or message behind it that makes it so bad. Usually in dreams I can't scream. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. This time I could. I asked for help and I was saved. It's reinforcing the thought that when these things were happening to me I didn't ask for help. I couldn't, it wasn't possible, but I still blame myself for it continuing. I keep asking myself "why didn't I tell someone?". I know the answer but it never justifies it enough. 

When I woke up I was terrified. It hit me how vulnerable I felt and how vulnerable I am. The fear of it happening again is always there in the back of my mind. I'm so scared when I'm out alone at night and there are men near me. Even during the day if there aren't many other people around. The memories have such a huge impact on my life and this dream showed me just how much they effect me.

A Defence of my Defences

I have a habit of becoming fiercely protective of the things I love. While this isn't unusual in itself, my huge outbursts of rage when people criticise a musician, film, or even pokemon I love stretch slightly out of the boundaries of "normality". While I can't explain this to everyone in my life, I can explain it here, and the purpose of this blog is for things like this. I'd like to apologise in advance for the tone of this entry. One of my oldest self-defence mechanisms is springing up at the thought of writing this. Good old sarcasm and bitchiness. 

It is in no way simple to deal with issues such as sexual abuse, self injury, mood disorders, eating disorders and any other kind of disorder you may care to mention. The biggest problem for me is the stigma that comes with them. Society looks down on you and expects you to be ashamed, and all the pressure and expectations piled on top of you eventually force you to feel the shame that they want, so you hide things, never tell anyone how you feel. But sometimes you just can't bottle it up, and you have to mention these things, to somehow give the world a glimpse of what you're feeling before you explode. That's where humour comes in handy.

I make fun of my problems. I laugh about them. If they're particularly bad then I mock the drama that can accompany them. I turn myself into this complete joke. It works to an extent though. It releases the pressure. It also leaves the problem of where to redirect the energy building up inside that desperately wants to backtrack and protect your ego. With me, it finds its place defending seemingly insignificant things.

Some of them have a deeper meaning though. Take my love of Emilie Autumn. She's managed to become this amazing, successful person despite her undoubtedly ongoing battles with mental health issues. In her I see hope, and she makes me feel a little less ashamed. It's hard to explain. I'm sure a lot of fellow EA fans will understand. It's because of this that I became furious at me boyfriend the other day. I was checking twitter and she'd "tweeted" something along the lines of "I can't wait to be back on the stage". His response was "attention whore much?". In that moment I immediately stitched my situation onto the framework provided by her and her life and situation and what emerged was a personal response, as if he had insulted me. 

This happens a lot, and I don't like it, but until both myself and those around me can become comfortable with my mind it's all I have.

Home Again

Glasgow was good fun, I'm definitely moving there in september. 

It felt a lot like I was babysitting my boyfriend though. I had to bully him into getting anything done which made me feel awful. We got stranded overnight in Aberdeen so I was incredibly stressed, and yesterday morning when our train was cancelled again all my anger at him came out. We're not unhappy with each other at the moment, he accepts that he made things difficult for me.

I managed to eat fine while I was gone. I was able to choose what I wanted so I had control, plus I had to make sure that mt boyfriend was eating ok. 

I'd like to write more but I've not been smoking today and I can hardly think. My boyfriend really wants me to stop and sometimes goes on a bit. I may actually go and buy more cigarettes shortly. I have applications and things to do but I just can't think.