it is what it is.

You look well?
 What the fuck does that mean?  Can you see inside my head? 
Society today is so hung up on personal appearance.  Photos are filtered, we can choose what to show to the rest of the world.
Social media shows what we want people to see, our perfect worlds, perfect friends, perfect lives.
Nobody really knows what is going on in others lives, its all a big fantasy. 

I live in a bubble, a bubble that my nurse once said she would pop.  My bubble keeps me safe, protects me from others and my own thoughts.
My illness is not all about weight.  If I was to gain 3 stone tomorrow would I be cured. Probably not.

Its not about wanting to stay ill, it's about knowing my limitations and how hard to push myself.
Hospital was a safe environment, one where I could weight restore and not have to deal with the aftermath of feelings on my own.  In the community is not so easy.

My therapist is working on compassion. Supporting me through trauma and all the feelings that sit alongside it.  Its tough.  We don't talk about food, how I'm managing my meal plan or how to move forward with weight gain.  I struggle with this but I am keeping myself safe.  My blood work is on the normal scale, I know what foods to eat to make sure I am getting the right nutrients.  My dietitian is happy.

Food restriction keeps me in control of my emotions, eating sends me into turmoil.
I often overeat and seek permission from my Husband that its OK to do so and I'm not greedy.  He tells me if I'm hungry to eat, this is normal behaviour and I need it. Rice Krispies are currently my go to food.
I have been open about my urges to purge or exercise and have admitted to times when the urges have been so strong I have lost control.
I am pulled in all directions and the slightest thing can send me into over thinking and fight or flight mode.
I need to talk about this as soon as it happens but does that make me needy?  Do I need to validate every single thought.
I hate my brain at the moment but this is all part of my recovery.  I hate how I'm feeling, that I'm not in control of my emotions, that I can break down at the slightest thing and want to run away from it all.
I have the crisis team number and I have come close at times to calling them.....I haven't needed to as I have managed to ride it through.  Not easy in a public place.
Thank you to those who told me last night that they liked my top.

My illness is not all about weight.....It is what it is.

xx

I am sorry

I am sorry.....

My heart feels like a knife has been driven through it.

Therapy brought up feelings of sadness, shame, disgust, embarrassment.

At the moment I don't want to feel. Feeling hurts.

It was like being back there, in that moment.  I tried so hard not to cry, not to show my weakness.

There were so many things I wanted to say and so many reasons why I couldn't.

Today I learnt of a friend of a friend who has died.  She was young, she was beautiful, she needed help.

I feel for her family and those she left behind.

I feel for those I love, those who find it hard to cope being around me because I upset them too much.

I feel for the child that I nurtured, who I care for deeply who is hurting. 

I have caused that pain and it only adds to mine.

What you are feeling, I am feeling too.

Mental Health Awareness Week 2018 The past year.

Rydon

As the darkness descends, the noises begin

 Footsteps, the wails and the keys jangling.

 Mind numbing pills that alter your mood

Bad dreams and flashbacks, they still intrude.

Mountainous fences to hold madness in,

Pacing of corridors just to keep thin,

Queues at the hatch to get daily meds

Bells and alarms invading your head.

This is no hotel or holiday camp

The pillows aren't plumped but tear stained damp

There is no pass key to access the door

This is your safe place, until we say go.

As it is Mental Health Awareness week I thought it time I posted an update.

My therapy sessions are going well and yes ,Dom is still wearing the purple jumper on a Wednesday.  We have been working on compassion focused therapy which in a nutshell is showing compassion and kindness to yourself and challenging the negative and unwelcome thoughts. This is not something which comes easy to me and involves a lot of homework and self discovery.

So I want to look back on the past year and recognise the achievements I have made rather than focusing on what I haven't done.  Some of you may have kept up to date with my facebook posts but for those of you who haven't, this is my past year.

  Trigger warning............please do not read further if you may be affected by suicidal ideation or self harm.

May 15th I was in my psychiatrists office with my eating disorders nurse for what I thought was a normal appointment brought forward a few weeks. The previous month I had been in a very bad place despite  a glorious holiday and Birthday celebrations.

My disassociation had got worse; I would often find myself in places and not aware of how I got there.

I was not managing my depression or my food intake, was having scary memories and flashbacks and thoughts of suicide came thick and fast.  The rapid change from being ok, to feeling sad or numb was my norm

There is a difference between thinking of taking your own life and planning it.  My thoughts came at different times.  I could get up happy and quickly descend into darkness. When I was starting to get my affairs into order was the day everything changed....

My psychiatrist had arranged a bed for me at a local acute mental health hospital but wouldn't be available until later that day or the next day.

 It was time for the control to be taken away from me.  The threat of a section was hanging over me If I refused to be admitted.  My illness was consuming me and I still fought to hang onto it.

I was luckier than most. At least my admission was slightly preplanned so I had time to get some personal effects packed, some which were taken away from be on admission as they were deemed a risk to myself.

We travelled to Taunton in silence, it was very daunting and I was terrified.

When we arrived at the ward a nurse introduced herself and took away my bags to be checked.She then offered to show us around the ward.  By this point I was already breaking down so we went straight to my room.  It was basic and sparse,  all ligature points had been removed meaning there were no taps just sensors, no headboard, no toilet seat, all furniture was foam and plastic, it was a 'safe place.' 

Kev said it was the worse day ever leaving me there.  I am so sorry for all the pain I put him and my family and friends through and will always be thankful for their support.

I was lucky to receive many visitors during my stay.  I had mixed reviews on whether they thought it was the right place for me.  I too had similar thoughts.  I didn't feel I fitted in and certainly didn't feel ill enough or deserving of the staff support.  In hindsight I now believe it was the right place.  It served a purpose, helped me to adjust to my medication and kept me safe.

I won't go into great detail about my admission but there are many things that stood out.
I began to recognise staff my their footsteps in the corridor.  I would cry at the noises at night, conflict between patients, the sounds of keys and the girl opposite banging her head on the wall.

I kept myself to myself at first, waiting until everyone had finished before I went into the dining room or sitting on my bed with the door locked. The thought of having to eat with strangers or being watched was paralysing.
 The patients came and went,many came back.  I was thankful to meet a few ladies who I was on a level with and we spent many evenings chatting and watching TV in the female lounge.  I am happy to say that they are both doing well and we meet weekly for coffee.

Most of the staff were caring and supportive although we did have a staff nurse who I named Nurse Ratchett.  If you have ever seen one flew over the cuckoos nest you will understand.
The ward was not set up for patients with eating disorders and often my support was inconsistent with my care plan, and recommendations from my Nurse and Dietitian were not followed.  Nurses said they did not have the skills to help me and I will admit to using this to my advantage at times.
I had a real insight into how people I support may feel.  Especially when your movements are restricted.

Because of my low BMI my activity was restricted.  I tried using the activities room but often it was closed due to staff shortages so we were left to occupy ourselves.  The day I was allowed to use my headphones was definitely a highlight.
At first I was allowed out for a walk with the staff or my visitors but this was soon restricted as I was  deemed to be burning too many calories. My Psychiatrist thought I was cycling!  I was actually going out on the back of Kevs motorbike.  The thought of Kev cycling from Burnham to Taunton would be a site to behold.
One Nurse was always happy to take me out for my 15 minutes 'exercise' so she could have a crafty cigarette, others were not so keen.  It makes me smile when I think of the staff member who said she didn't like walking so was not keen on taking me out.  I soon got her lost and exceeded my exercise time.

We had weekly ward rounds which consisted of myself, a nurse, Dr and the psychiatrist discussing my progress, future plans and home leave.
For the first few weeks I was not allowed leave but this didn't stop me asking Kev to take me home one day with a promise I would return.
The feeling of being in normal surroundings, my sofa, using my toilet and own bath made me appreciate all I have.  It was difficult to return to a place where I was not allowed to be free.
The future plan was to wait for a bed at an eating disorders unit in Bristol.  Unfortunately beds are not readily available so after my discharge from Rydon I waited another 5 weeks to move to the specialist unit.  I will save that for another post.

Back to friends.  I am thankful for all the cards, letters, gifts, visits, messages and videos that got me through.  In such a dark place they brought light to my day.
There has always been a stigma around Mental Health units and I want to stress to anyone reading this, do not feel ashamed or judged.  No-one bats an eyelid if you are inpatient for a broken limb, a broken mind is no different.
My story continues.

Must do better.

The past week has been exhausting. I tried to put the anger I felt after I was dismissed from my job into something positive.  I emailed the company suggesting they revised the way they support staff with a mental health problem, and received the bog standard ' we take all our employees health and well being seriously' email back.

I have been trying to focus on the positives after going through a week of emotions and separating them from the facts. Although I may not agree with their decision, I understand why they made it.

Today I received another blow. 

My care coordinator/eating disorder nurse who has been working with me since late 2016 has made the decision to transfer my care to Dom my therapist. This is not all bad as we have a good therapist/patient relationship but unfortunately the sessions are time limited.

My nurses reasoning for the change, is that I am not managing weight restoration and have only maintained for the past few weeks.

After my discharge from Hospital (that's for another blog post) I agreed to reach a certain BMI, this was unsuccessful so the goal was decreased and then we compromised on a  maintenance weight.

Although I am engaging in weekly therapy, I know if my weight drops, cognitively I will not be able engage properly as starvation has a detrimental effect on the brain and your way of thinking. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't know this was coming.

NHS waiting lists for eating disorder outpatient treatment are long and although the ed team in Somerset has increased over the past 8 years they still struggle.

So where does that leave me now?  

I feel sadness at the loss of my support; failure that I was unable to stick to my meal plan; guilt that I have let my friends and family down; not good enough, rejected and alone.

Above all I feel scared. Very scared. 

I understand the reasoning behind the decision, (must try harder) and am trying to use wise mind as opposed to emotional mind.

Someone on a facebook group said to me, 'Please don't take it personally or use it as a reason to mistreat yourself.'  She is very right. I did not use my 'go to' behaviours instead I used compassion and kindness towards myself, something I struggle with daily.

Tomorrow is another day, another small step, another learning curve.

If all I can do at the moment is keep myself safe then that is enough. 

Must do better.

Tell It How It Is.

I have heard the phrase 'Recovery is a journey,' many times. This is a journey 5 years ago which I thought and hoped had ended.  Most journeys end with something pleasant, something worth the wait, with a clear road, no red lights or diversions.
 Other journeys may need a bit of refuelling, a top up of oil and a battery recharge before reaching the final destination.
So where did I take a wrong turn?
Why is this shiny new Porsche  now feeling like a burnt out old banger!!

I knew that it would never be an easy ride as I'd driven this road before but I thought I knew which way  I was steering. I didn't expect to be back in a dark tunnel, but maybe this is how 'it' maps out.
I can see how it started and I know how it can end.

The depression kicked in first. Slowly bringing me down, putting me down , letting me down.
Its friend anxiety paid me a visit too, preying on my every thoughts, picking at my confidence, whispering over my shoulder to do better, sitting on my chest and squeezing the breath out of me, taking away my voice, my passions, my beliefs in me. My trips outside became less and less and usually included earphones in, head down, and panic. My time indoors would be spent just sat, doing nothing.
I stopped being I will, and became I can't.

The energy it takes on a daily basis to function in this frame of mind is immense.  Not answering the door unless I am expecting someone, hiding in my bedroom away from the noise.
The fear of being outside, in places where I can't get away, where I don't feel safe. Where I think people are looking at me because 'They know.'
Sleeping for most of the day through medication or just the sheer need for rest, and not being able to do a simple task without needing a rest again.  Having a really good day then feeling it emotionally and physically the day after because you have given as much as you can.
The food issues wheedled their way in.....skipping meals due to lack of time, routine or circumstance.  What started as something most people do, was sneaking up on me and waiting to catch hold.
I didn't recognise it at first, but others did.
I was questioning my relationship around food and making excuses to myself and others.
'Its the medication, its a normal reaction to being depressed, I eat every day, but I'm not underweight.'
Yes, all the above is still true, but why I am feeling driven to continue, why can I not eat 'normally,' why do I get anxious around food.'
The fact that I am still questioning myself is a positive thing. It means I still have my healthy voice telling my ill voice that I don't want it.
Often my ill voice wins, but the healthy voice is still up for the fight.


Things are getting better.
I am less tired and more focused this week.  The tablets seem to be doing some good and a friend suggested grounding techniques and mindfulness, something I never thought would be for me, but so far so good.
I am aiming to get out each day.  Either for a walk, a visit to a friend or the dreaded supermarket.
I am now getting quite good at focusing and counting on items at the checkout to bring me back to the here and now, rather than the anxiety and sensations of panic.
I set myself goals, however small or insignificant and try not to berate myself if I haven't managed them.

I have seen a nurse at my local practise for bloods etc. A counsellor told me to think of this as self care as opposed to medical.  I think she was right.  I am lucky that I am still classed as being within a healthy weight range for my height ( I've apparently shrunk!!)  I have to tell myself this does not mean that I do not need or deserve any professional help, The only person judging me is myself.

This is me getting off the highway to hell and back on the road to recovery.

Best Foot Forward.

In March of this year I stood in front of a group of Counselling students and gave a talk about my experience going through recovery from an eating disorder.  My finishing line stated, that after my Husbands heart attack, 'If I can get through that without using e.d behaviours I can get through anything.'
So why is it, over 4 months later I am struggling again?
Maybe I was fooling myself that full recovery is possible.
Maybe I was too complacent.
Or maybe, relapse is part of this completed and never clear process.
Whatever the reasons; what I do know is that I have beaten this before and have more knowledge, tools and a good support network to get back on the right track.
Recognising and being honest with myself and others is the first step.
I have many more steps to take, some forward, some back.  I will stumble and fall down, but will always  get back up and start again.
Best foot forward, here goes......