In a new effort to be more transparent, instead of acting like I’m fine and doing a coffee share (which I did really want to do because I miss updating you and being part of the coffee share), I’m going to tell you that I’m not fine.
For the past week, I haven’t been able to go anywhere without having a panic attack in public and worst of all for me, I haven’t been able to get eating disordered thoughts out of my brain which has just made my chronic unrelenting anxiety even worse.
It’s okay… I haven’t acted upon my eating disordered thoughts. The worst thing about it is that my body feels like I have acted on them. I keep getting cravings and the urge to binge when I really haven’t cut back my food intake (As mostly for me, cutting back food intake does make binge eating more likely, however, binge eating can exist without cutting back food). Just thinking about the fact I want to cut my food intake is giving me urges to binge. I’ve been fighting it all week, and am exhausted and this week has therefore felt like the longest week for a long time as I’ve been living from meal to meal. I know, fighting is the worst thing you can do, rather, you need to ignore the crap out of any eating disordered thoughts you get, ignorance though, is something I am struggling with. I don’t have the capacity to ignore things as I’m not feeling well at all mentally, I think I’m depressed or heading for an episode or something. I can’t ignore anything because I’m struggling to cope with everything.
I don’t know why I feel this way, but I also know that sometimes there is no reason. Sometimes you just get ill. Things have been going well, I moved house, I quit smoking and I started eating more healthy… But then, maybe that’s why I don’t feel well. I did a lot in such a short space of time. I coped really well with moving house, but, if I’m completely honest with you, I did entertain the idea that moving house would fix everything, it would fix me. I don’t know how much I really believed that, but I guess I was hoping that it would be the case. My old apartment caused me so many issues, dogs barking all of the time very loudly, very very loud music that skipped constantly (my neighbours had only one music disc that was really scratched), the best way to describe my old home is, if you’ve watched SAS: Who Dares Wins on Channel 4 recently, my old home was the stage where they mentally pushed them to their breaking point and didn’t allow them to sleep through the entire thing. Watching those mentally sound men (they are tested psychologically beforehand) break down because they can’t deal with it, made me feel a little bit better. It also made me feel like, well, maybe that’s why I am so ill, because I live permanently in a stage of SAS selection.
I get upset and mad when I say that I feel depressed and then people ask, “Why?”, because that suggests that depression is only a thing that happens to people who have a reason for it. Or that you’re only allowed to be depressed if you have a good enough reason for it. Which is totally ridiculous, and not how depression works in the slightest, however, that doesn’t ever stop me trying to find reasons for my own depressive episode of Bipolar disorder. I search endlessly through the filing system in my brain for the reason as if finding the exact reason means I’ll be able to find the solution and then I won’t have to be ill anymore. Well, moving house became one of the solutions. It was very unlikely that I would move house, due to my out of work situation and having to rely on housing associations. It was a pipe dream, and I’d say, “If only I could move house, everything would be better”. I excused myself for feeling bad in my old home because anyone would feel bad living there, and I’m not over exaggerating at all, and now, things are great and it hurts more that I feel sad because I feel like I should be happy.
Don’t get me wrong, everything is better since I moved house, but I’m still ill. I still have bipolar disorder, and what’s upsetting me the most is the eating disordered thoughts I’ve been struggling with. If you’ve been here at my blog for a while you know that I’ve been in recovery from anorexia for 4 and a half years, I’ve also struggled with bulimia in the past too so am no stranger to binges or binge eating. For the last year, I’ve hardly even thought about food, or my weight or anything. I have still struggled a lot with my body image though, I hate even being in photographs because I think I’m super ugly and no one can tell me otherwise, I never believe them. I’m not a person who can take a selfie without feeling a tonne of hatred for myself and am secretly envious of people who can, and I feel bad because my phone is full of pictures of my daughter, and not pictures of my daughter and me. I’m missing. Apart from the body image stuff, I have actually been enjoying food for the past year and eating whatever I want whenever I want and not ever feeling guilty. I even entertained the idea that aside from the body image stuff, maybe I was fully recovered. I’ve also been able to have giant packets of food in my house and not be scared that I’ll lose control over it. However right now, I don’t trust myself to have what I consider binge food in my house. It’s too much hard work to deal with having them in my house because I will have to use extra energy to ignore them, when a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have even thought twice about having them in my house.
I guess that’s why this hurts so much, I felt like my eating disorder was a problem I’d said goodbye to, and it decided to rear it’s ugly head to let me know that, yes, it is still there. However, I do now have the hope that it’ll return to being a dormant volcano in my brain because for the last year, it was completely dormant. Well, I’ve always had hope. I got reminded of that when I reread a poem, and I’d like to end this blog post with a quote from the poem.
“Hope is the thing with feathers – that perches in the soul – and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all” – Emily Dickinson.
Everyone always has hope.