WEEK SIX

Day 36

The easier things become at the clinic, and the more confidence I develop in my ability to recover – and stay recovered – the less interesting things I have to share. And it’s not because I only focus on the negative – I promise! It’s because life in the clinic is fairly routine and dull, and unless I’m having some kind of emotional crisis, there’s nothing to share. And today I’ve had no emotional crisis. I have in fact had a great (but slightly dull) day.

I’ve now been taken off post meal supervision. Hooray! That is 5.5 hours per day that I can now do as I please. No longer do I have to stay in the common room listening to radio and television shows I’m not interested in.

It’s also a big step towards getting me closer to a discharge date.

My keyworker for this week has asked me to come up with three goals. I really had to think on that as I feel I’ve accomplished quite a few things since I’ve been here. But in the end I thought:

1. Keep down all meals – even if I have to take 40 minutes to eat it
2. Use my extra 5.5 hours per day productively on future focused things (eg writing, business plan etc)
3. Stop scratching my hands when anxious

So I’ll see how that goes. I’m starting to feel determined I need a discharge date, so I might push for that during ward round this week.

It is very interesting the number of people who have asked me how I went at church yesterday – I’d obviously shared my anxieties with more folks than I realised. When I said I wasn’t touched by God or miraculously healed, but it was an interesting experience and a lovely day out, they all seemed to think that was very reasonable. Nobody goes to church for the first time and feels like they’ve been struck by a bolt of lightning, said one person. But I’m not so sure about that. My friend has certainly described moments where she’s seen people very unexpectedly suddenly “feel” the presence of a God they didn’t previously believe in. So I guess for some people it can happen.

I may never become a convert to Christianity, but over the past couple of years I’ve developed more and more of an interest in spirituality. My friend sent me a beautiful video from Brene Brown today – a speaker I really admire – and in it she quotes her personal definition of spirituality:

The deeply held belief that we are inextricably connected to each other by something greater than us, and something that is rooted in love and compassion. I call that God. Some people call it Fishing. People call it different things.

Gosh I love that! It’s something I have often felt and wondered. When one person calls something intuition, another calls it God. In so many ways we are all fundamentally the same, but sometimes language can divide us. The older I get the more value I place on having an open mind, and to never say never. Be it God, Higher Power, Buddha, Fishing, Allah, Intuition, or a Big Yellow Bus, there does come a time for all of us when we need to trust in something (not someone) outside ourselves.

Day 37

Today I shed a thousand tears. And when they dried I shed a thousand more.

I woke to the news this morning that a friend of 22 years, died suddenly in her sleep. Our friendship is hard to quantify and explain – Linda lived in Florida in the US, and I live in Tasmania in Australia. Far, far away from each other. And yet for 22 years I have communicated with her – and a group of around 40 women – virtually daily. Our initial common bond was through pregnancy, with a due date in August 1996. But before long we discussed everything – birth and death, love and loss, sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. Friendships are not formed merely in close proximity, but through mutual love, respect and understanding.

Today Linda’s three sons begin a life with no living parent. While she is now reunited with her soulmate, three young men are left reeling with an unexpected and tragic loss.

In 2010 I had the great privilege of meeting Linda and a dozen of the other mums. I felt an instant kinship with her, as we shared the highs and lows of raising three boys with high intelligence and wills of iron. We laughed and cried and hugged and an amazing friendship from afar was consolidated in the flesh.

I am shocked beyond words that such a vibrant, passionate woman has gone so quickly and far too soon.

I will miss her comments on my blog. I will miss her wisdom in our group. I will mourn that I only ever met her once in “real life”.

To add insult to injury, when I returned from a few hours leave this afternoon – still feeling shocked and trying to process yet another death in my world – I discovered the powers that be had been through my room at the clinic and confiscated my bag of dirty underwear. I’m still shocked. But getting more pissed off by the minute.

It’s a cloth, drawstring bag, and I can only assume they felt the drawstring aspect was a safety issue (this is a psychiatric hospital after all). I wouldn’t have a problem with that if someone had said something in the past five weeks. But that bag has hung there – in plain view – for 37 days. I’ve had weekly room inspections for items of risk. Why today – of all days – would they confiscate the bag and take all my dirty underwear? I only have one clean pair of knickers left…

I have since managed to retrieve all the underwear so I can do my washing tomorrow, but I’m really cranky about it.

In my ward round tomorrow, I’m going to practice the assertive communication style we discussed in our group session today. I want to go home – I’m ready – and I want a set date – prior to Wednesday 14 March.

Today is the first day I’ve ever experienced grief and loss, and not been permitted to be hugged or consoled by anyone. I could have done with a hug. And today is the first time I’ve ever had to wonder if stranger’s have rifled through my dirty underwear.

I want to go home. I want to go home now.

Day 38

Today is the beginning of the end. And this auspicious ending, will soon lead to the end of the beginning.

I had my ward round today and it was promptly suggested I might like to move onto the pre-discharge phase. Yes please! This means I have leave seven days per week. Monday-Friday 2-8pm and weekends 8:30am-7:30pm. This is an adjustment phase where I can start to experience a bit of real life. Most patients live close by so can go home during these times – I’ll have to go shopping, or to the theater 🙂 And it allows me to see how I cope when I’m left in charge of myself for long periods of time. I’m not so worried about eliminating thoughts – I just want to feel confident that I’ll have no compulsive urges for disordered behaviours. Only time will tell. But at this point I’m starting to feel more confident. This is the new me.

I also have a discharge date – Wednesday 07 March, which is two weeks from today. Two weeks to hone my newly learned behaviours and work through any issues or obstacles that arise. I have my flight booked to go home. My husband will fly over the Sunday before I leave so he’ll have an opportunity on the Monday and Tuesday to meet with the family therapist and the dietitian and go home with as much information as possible to support me as I’m adjusting back to “real life”. I’ve also made appointments with my dietitian and psychologist for the 27th of March, and my GP has agreed to write a referral to my psychiatrist at home, just as soon as she gets some information from the ED psychiatrist here at the clinic.

So today has been a day of wins and I’m feeling quite positive. I still fear a relapse into binging behaviours, but I doubt this fear will ever subside completely.

I just have to practice having – and accepting – a new normal.

I will also want to discuss a tweaking of my menu plan before I’m discharged. I can’t change things here as the program is for all of us – not just me and my unique set of issues. But the dietitian has agreed to talk with me about modifying the plan I use at home. First, I want to drop to five meals per day – not six – as eating every two hours is grossly inconvenient. But every three seems reasonable – 7am, 10am, 1pm, 4pm, 7pm. Or thereabouts. I also want a smaller dinner, but slightly larger snacks, to make meals more enjoyable and so I don’t have to force feed food when I’m overly full. I feel that will work for me and I’m hoping the dietitian will help me put together a good, balanced, nutritious, sensible plan. Which I can then continue to work on with my dietitian at home.

She did mention this morning that while she rarely mentions weight to any of her patients, as I’m still banging on about needing to lose 5kg, she wanted me to know that ever since I arrived – despite eating six times a day (including chocolates, ice cream and crackers), I have been consistently losing weight. Just a small amount I would suggest – but definitely no gains. While part of me is sure that weight loss is a conversion of muscle to flab, I am definitely heartened by the fact that eating regularly has not made me fat. I know binging regularly (or even periodically) makes me fat. But feeding myself a very consistent diet at regular times and with carefully considered nutritional outcomes, has done exactly what logic has always said it would – let my body settle into its’ set point weight.

When I return home I’ll be getting straight back to gym, so while increasing muscle may do me no favours on the scales, I’m hoping it will help with some overall slimming down (as measured by my clothes and my rings) and some toning of my flabby bits. Not expecting miracles… but a little more toned would be a pleasant start.

So all in all today was good news day. Headache still hovering but I now anticipate it will hang around until I get home and get a few decent massages. I might try and track the GP down here tomorrow and see what other pain relief is on offer. Aside from that – no other complaints today 🙂

Day 39

Today is the first day I’ve used my pre-discharge leave. I want to use it as much as possible before I go home, so I can practice eating out – under my own volition – and try to become as normal as possible. At this stage, while my thought processes do flit through a ton of unhelpful possibilities, for the most part I have a strong desire to adhere to my menu plan – the right types of food, in appropriate portions, at approximately the same time as the clinic schedule.

I went in to the city for five hours today. Afternoon tea went well – a latte and a red velvet slice. I shopped up a storm (one new dress and four new bras thank you very much) and then I purchased what looked to be a perfect option for dinner. It was a “naked” burrito bowl – quinoa and rice with black beans and salsa and and smashed avocado and peas with pulled pork. And a ton of baby spinach. It was an enormous serving so I gave myself permission not to eat it all, but ensured I was partaking of all food groups. Unfortunately I was also stressed about getting back to the clinic on time and not entirely sure where and when to catch which tram, so I panicked a bit and ate too fast. The food got stuck. I tried valiantly to keep it down but by the time I’d walked four or five blocks I knew it was a lost cause and I could either purge some of the food, or wait a little longer and spontaneously vomit in the middle of the street. I went for the first option.

I feel so disappointed in myself.

I genuinely wanted to eat dinner out and prove to myself – and the team – that I’ve got this nailed. I’m ready to go home. But I’ve still got some learning to do. And always eat slowly is at the top of that list. I think for future dinners I’ll also catch the tram first, so I’m close to the clinic, then eat somewhere that’s a ten minute walking distance. I’ll feel less stressed then. I know I can do this. I just didn’t want to get off to such a shaky start.

On the up side, I’ve purchased matinee tickets for two musicals over the weekend – Dream Lover (the story of Bobby Darin) on Saturday, and Beautiful (the story of Carole King) on Sunday. So I’m really looking forward to both of those. Plus I get to practice eating four meals out each day. And this time I’m gonna nail it. It is my birthday after all. I can accomplish anything I put my mind to 🙂

Day 40

We had movement therapy today. A brand new experience – something I’ve never done before – which is a reflection on a lot of things I’m learning here. New. Self conscious. Uncomfortable. As music plays we walk around the room together – any old how. I am compulsed and driven to walk with the beat – which is very slow. It brings back memories of gym and zumba. And a thousand years ago going out clubbing and dancing with friends. Just trying to let my body absorb the music and go with it. Movement feels good. We’re so often seated and laying down here. Moving to music feels doubly good. It’s not exercise – but it’s a connection to music through my body.

Working with the fabric – a donut shaped parachute – offering a sense of community. Feeling supported – physically and emotionally by the group, through the tactile sensations of the fabric. A commune of women surrounded by burgundy and blue, silk and cotton. Fully supported with the fabric against my back feeling like the group has my back. And knowing when I go home there is another group of people to support me – through highs and lows. Today felt like a really safe space – no judgment, just compassion. The only judgment coming from me, to me. And before long I was able to let that go. It was very empowering to feel my body move and stretch after such a long period of inactivity.

After my initial hesitation with the concept of movement therapy, today became a safe, expressive place.

Aside from movement therapy, today has been a very – v.e.r.y – sleepy day. Today is day 11 of an unrelenting headache. For the first four days it was very migrainesque – ie visual sensitivity and disturbances, nausea, as well as the pain being centered behind my left eye, and exclusively on the left hand side. By last weekend the nausea pretty much dissipated and the visual disturbances went, but the pain remains the same. Without drugs between 5-7 on that good old pain scale. With drugs, down to a one or two. I have to confess, I’m sick of it now. I contacted the doctor again today and he believes it’s still a cluster headache, most likely anxiety related. But he’s now charted extra meds for me as I’ve been sticking to my migraine tablet, a triple dose of aspirin, and some clonazepam. Which did the trick for a while. Now I’m charted for paracetamol four times per day and ibuprofen twice a day. And if they don’t cut it, I can still take all the other things. So I had a lot of meds at lunchtime and was very sleepy all afternoon. Pain is now at a one. So that’s good. I do look forward to the day when I wake with no pain and the nurse can record a big fat zero on my daily obs chart.

I’m looking forward to the weekend – and I don’t want to be zombied out – as I’ve bought the matinee tickets for a musical both days and I’m just going to casually potter and practice eating like a normal person before and after the shows. It is only nine sleeps until my husband comes over and 12 sleeps until I go home. The end is nigh 🙂

Day 41

A lovely – but very long – day. It’s Saturday, and as I’m now on pre-discharge, it means I can leave the clinic any time after breakfast (8:30am) and stay out until supper (8pm). So that’s a lot of freedom. And a lot of credit card temptation. My most important goal is to stick as closely as possible to the menu plan routine while I’m out on leave – otherwise this entire period of voluntary incarceration has been a complete waste of time.

I left the clinic around 9:30am (no need to rush these things) and headed off to the Arts Center so I could collect my tickets for the Bobby Darin musical, Dream Lover. I had a couple of hours to fill in before the matinee so I popped into the art gallery next door. I’m not generally a big fan of art galleries – I’m just not that sophisticated – but it was free, just a hundred yards away, and has a really lovely tea room. I ordered devonshire tea for my morning tea. Because I can. It was outrageously expensive for a bit of flour with butter rubbed in, but the hibiscus jam was utterly divine and the scones cooked to perfection so I forgave the horrid price tag. I filled in my time looking at art and sculpture, old and new, grabbing some happy snaps of the weird and wonderful, then went back to the art center for lunch before going to see the show.

Lunch was ordinary. The show extraordinary.

Full of the glitz and glam of traditional Hollywood musicals – plenty of feathers and sequins, flashing lights and an onstage big band (wish they’d use proper flute players – my eternal bugbear). The story was beautiful, the costuming eye catching and David Campbell is divine. I loved it.

Rather than risk rushing dinner and losing it like I did on Thursday, I caught the tram straight back then went to dinner at a pub I’ve been to a couple of times. I know where it is and I know they do good food. This time I felt no panic and could enjoy the food – and surprise, surprise, it stayed down. Easily.

I struggle to know how much I should eat – I guess this is a question for the dietitian. Even at the clinic I eternally feel really full and bloated. And I did again with dinner tonight – even though I only ate half. I just don’t have the hang of how full I’m supposed to be. Extremely uncomfortable doesn’t seem ideal, but at the clinic it seems to be the norm. I did at least ensure I had a balance of protein, carbs and lots of veggies. I think she’d be happy about that. And the trouble with being overfull at dinner, is I only have an hour to get it digested before supper time. It’s all very counterintuitive.

I realise I’m trying to rewrite a lifetime of screwed up thinking and metabolism, but when on my own, I’m going to struggle with figuring out correct portions. My stomach feels so bloated I look six months pregnant. But I won’t be birthing anything even vaguely adorable…

Day 42

Today is the 42nd day of my incarceration. And my 52nd birthday.

Six weeks ago, when it dawned on me I would be spending my birthday in a psychiatric hospital, I felt really dreary about it. I celebrate so few of my birthdays and this year I had it in my head I was going to get together with some of my wonderful friends and celebrate it properly. Instead I celebrated alone.

The girls in the clinic sang happy birthday at breakfast time (not something I’m generally comfortable with). I headed out about 9:30 and waited for Koko Black to open so I could have morning tea at one of my most favourite places in Melbourne. A chocolate shop. Ironically I wasn’t in the mood for chocolate so had the house-made crumpets with fresh butter and raspberry jam with cacao nibs. Delicious.

I pottered around in Myer until lunchtime – buying myself a much needed rash vest for the next time I go kayaking. Then went back to Koko Black for lunch. It seems they now do toasted sandwiches as well as the usual chocolate delights – goats cheese and caramelised onion. Perfect. I purchased some chocolates to have later in the day for my afternoon tea, then headed up to the theater to watch the Carole King musical, Beautiful. It was absolutely sublime – trumped yesterday’s Dream Lover show. And I was very glad to be only four rows from the front. I could see and hear perfectly.

The show was done by 3:30 so I had just enough time to drop into the cinema and watch I, Tonya. What an amazing film! Margot Robbie just fabulous. I remember most of the kerfuffle from the early 90’s but I didn’t remember the details. A very tragic life but a very good film.

Then my husband sent me a message telling me to FaceTime him ASAP. Of course I immediately panicked, but it turned out he had all four boys plus my dad – and my cat – over for dinner, so I got to chat to them all while they wished me a happy birthday.

I headed back towards the clinic, grabbing a quick caesar salad for dinner first. No problems eating at all today. Kept everything down. Don’t feel overly full and bloated today. And got back with three minutes to spare.

While technically I celebrated my birthday alone, I did lots of things I love, and felt very loved by the messages and FaceTime call I received. I’ve decided turning 52 is not all that bad. While I’m a lot older than I used to be, it’s fair to say, I’m a lot younger than I’m going to be. It was a great day today and for that I am very thankful.

LETTERS TO ME

Today’s psychology task – write two letters. One from my body to me. One from me to my body. Here goes:

Dear Simone,

Thank you for taking the opportunity to read this letter. I appreciate it is going to be confronting but unfortunately there are times when we need to hear a difficult truth – without acceptance of the facts, we cannot make changes and move forward.

Simone, I have been here since before you exited the comfort of your mother’s womb. I have protected you from the elements, given shelter to your organs so you may grow and function in the way you were designed to be. And I have wrapped you in a layer of protection from illness and harm. I am here for you and always have been.

In return you have intermittently starved me – forcing metabolic changes that benefited neither of us, and psychological distress that has brought you to your knees. You have alternatively binged and purged the very nutrients that are designed to nourish and protect, then berated me for perceived failures.

You’ve cursed your damaged vocal chords, brittle hair and nails, chronic malnutrition and eternal constipation, while knowing deep in your heart you are damaging the very body you so desperately want to control.

You’ve looked in the mirror and berated every inch of my being. You’ve undertaken surgeries that have scarred your body and soul, in an effort to fix an internal problem with an external solution. I am now scarred from head to toe. But Simone have courage. I am resilient. If you learn to trust me, I can deliver on the health you not only desire, but deserve. Let’s begin anew – working with each other rather than against.

Kind regards from your body

Dear Body,

I am so sorry. I truly am. While I have always been conscious of the damage I was doing, somehow the pull of the impossible desire – a sense of self-worth – has always overridden common sense.

I truly am grateful for the gifts you have bestowed despite my treatment of you and my loathing of your appearance. I was blessed that you grew not one, but three amazing new humans. Perfect in every way. Healthy and intact. I am eternally grateful for breasts that could nourish those babies for as long as I desired – allowing them the best start in life. I am grateful for an immune system that is strong and healthy and despite my attempts to damage my body in every imaginable way, I have for the most part been blessed with extraordinary good health and resilience in the face of illness or injury.

I am especially grateful for the places you have taken me without complaint – kayaking on Bruny Island, trekking through forests all over Tasmania, climbing Mt Vesuvius and Mt Kosciusko. I have seen spectacular natural places and it was you that carried me there.

I am so incredibly sorry for the damage inflicted – both internally and externally. I am ready to learn to listen to your quiet voice and follow the needs you desire. I am ready to see the scars as reminders of pain I have survived. I want us to become friends. Please forgive me.

Take care with love Simone

TO MY FRIEND, WITH LOVE

There is simply no pill that can replace human connection. There is no pharmacy that can fill the need for compassionate interaction with others. There is no panacea. The answer to human suffering is both within us and between us.

Dr Joanne Cacciatore

Today one of the invisible human connections that have sustained me over the past 22 years, left this earthly realm.

In 1996 I was pregnant with my second baby. Early in the year I discovered something called listservs – and thought I was pretty jolly clever. All of a sudden I was connected to a whole group of women who like me, were pregnant and due in August 1996. Some were expecting their first baby, some their last or only child, and for some – like me – August 1996 was the year of the middle child. We ranged from early 20s to late 40s – married, single, rich and poor, from every political and religious sphere – and it took no time at all for us to become the most amazing support network of women imaginable. An invisible web of human connections.

Initially a group numbering in the 100s, after a few years, and a few technological changes, we became a strong friendship group of about 40 women, predominantly American, but with mums in Canada, Ireland, Britain, South Africa, Germany and Australia. I consider my August96 mums to be some of my most amazing friends, and one of the reasons I survived parenting three boisterous young boys with my sanity (barely) intact.

Our group weathered storms of birth, death, marriage and divorce.

We grieved for stillborn babies and suicides. Celebrated new found love and career success. We’ve fought over politics and religion, breast vs bottle, stay-at-home vs work-at-home, and always come out stronger, wiser and more empathetic for our feisty discussions.

If ever I needed advice on anything, from what to feed my baby recovering from gastroenteritis, to the best means of treating a urinary tract infection, the mums have been there. We’ve grown up together and watched our babies mature into the amazing young men and women they are today. We’ve shared the excitement of awards and accolades, young love and grandbabies, mourned the loss of beloved children and spouses, and together shouldered the heavy burden of teenage experimentation with all that is dangerous and frightening. These amazing women are my friends.

In 2010 I was blessed to travel to Las Vegas and meet with 12 of my friends.

It has been one of the highlights of my life to wine and dine with women I knew intimately well, but had only ever known from afar. We hugged and laughed and stayed up late drinking margaritas and my life is all the richer for having been there. I’ve also been privileged to have had four of the mums from the United States visit me in Australia – all the way down south on my little island home, Tasmania. I hope one day to meet many more of them. In 2009, my fellow Australian August Mum, passed away after succumbing to cancer. Our group was shocked and devastated to lose one of our own.

We are all in shock. Linda has been a powerful voice in the group since its inception. Her incredible intelligence and wisdom frequently shedding light on even the most difficult and complex problems. Her feisty passion ready to defend without hesitation. Her amazing personality shining through in her love of classical singing, home cooking and strong connections to her Jewish community. And her overwhelming capacity for love never more evident than her pride and joy in her three beautiful boys. Linda lost her beloved life partner several years ago. I picture her now, dancing with her soulmate, singing songs of love with her deep alto voice, and watching over her boys with a fierce maternal love as they struggle to come to terms with life without parents.

I will treasure forever the memory of staying up until the wee hours of the morning in the hotel room, drinking red wine and sharing stories of the pros and cons of raising three incredibly intelligent and headstrong boys. I will remember her passion for good food, her kindness, her radiant personality when she entered a room, and her capacity to seek the best in us all and share her wisdom so freely.

Rest in Peace beloved friend.

And my love to all the August Mums who grieve this loss. A reminder we must always treasure what we have right now – for there may not be a tomorrow.

WEEK FIVE

Day 29

Today I’m very sad. I guess it was inevitable. After 25 years of marriage, I don’t normally blink an eye when spending time apart from my significant other – but this is different. We’ve been apart a month and will now be apart another 2-4 weeks. Which in the big scheme of things will become a blip on the radar, but today we’re surfing the blip. We met with the family therapist today and it was incredibly emotional – not at all what I’d expected. It ended up as a bit of a marriage counselling session, but with a really outstanding therapist (we’ve had less than positive experiences in the past). There are a lot of things for both of us to think about and it was particularly hard to say goodbye immediately after such an emotionally gruelling session. I certainly feel incredibly guilty for having added the burden of all my emotional issues and eating disorder behaviours to a marriage that was already struggling with good communication. I feel today’s session brought up some really important things and we will both have an opportunity to follow up with more later.

It was still a very teary farewell and I’m still feeling wracked with guilt.

I saw my psychiatrist this morning and asked my two pressing questions – can I go to see the bariatric surgeon and will I be home before 14 March. I’ve made an appointment with the surgeon for Wednesday morning and my psychiatrist is confident I’ll be out of here well and truly before 14 March. So that is good news. I know when I leave here I’ll be given lots of information on maintaining recovery and menu plans to follow etc, and I have an excellent team of professionals at home I will touch base with as soon as I can for post discharge follow up. I have been to a lovely dietitian at home so I’m sure she’ll help me work on the menu plan and gradually normalising my eating. My psychologist and GP are awesome and I’ve seen them for ages. I used to see a psychiatrist I really like, even though he knows nothing about eating disorders. But I can touch base with him to discuss medications, and I might ask the psychiatrist here to write a letter outlining what I’ve been up to. So once I leave here I feel I’ll be well supported. Part of me is desperate to leave now – I miss family and friends and purpose and I’ve always felt that “I’m not sick enough” feeling, which still comes and goes. And part of me never wants to leave because it’s safe here. I follow the rules and the structure and life is simple. Meaningless, lonely and repetitive. But simple. That’s institutionalization for you.

It was repeated today that patients are never to hug or console each other. I find this so difficult – it seems unkind, lacking empathy and makes it feel like a place devoid of positive emotions. I was also told today I’m not allowed to carry my anxiety bunny around – it’s not appropriate. I guess it does seem odd for a 52 year old woman to wander around with a stuffed toy – but it stops me scratching my hands. I’m guessing they want me to find alternative – healthy – coping mechanisms for the anxiety. I’ll add it to my list.

All afternoon I’ve been wanting to go into self destruct mode, but fortuitously our psychology session this morning was about dealing with urges so I managed to stay on top of things and as it so happened, the old “surf the urge” and “this too shall pass” anthems turned out to be true. This evening I feel flat after such an emotional day, and I’ve also decided I’m tired of feeling drugged so I’m only taking my regular medications now – not the clonazepam during the day and the sleeping pill at night. I want to start preparing myself to re-enter the real world, and I refuse to exchange an eating disorder for drug addiction…

Day 31

I missed a day’s journaling. I always feel very guilty when I do that – not sure why. It’s an arbitrary task I had set for myself.

Yesterday was a shit day. It started with a headache and finished with a migraine. My anxiety levels were sky high. Not sure if it was because I was feeling poorly and exhausted (no sleep previous night due to sitting in the lounge for 90 minutes with 50 other patients at midnight, while listening to the dulcet tones of a fire alarm… apparently a “small paper fire in unit two”). Or if my anxiety was a result of the overwhelming emotions that came with our family therapy session on Monday. Or a combination of the two. Or neither. But regardless, anxiety was sky high and my psychiatrist picked up on this (as would Blind Freddie) and I’m starting to realise that high anxiety is something I’m going to have to learn how to manage effectively in the long term. And not with clonazepam (which I’ve mostly stopped taking). And not with eating disorder behaviours or self harm or level 3000 on Candy Crush (I’m still kinda proud of that at times). But healthy ways of managing it. I think I’ll see my psychiatrist at home to talk about pharmaceutical options as well – but not those in the benzodiazapine family. They scare me…

Anyway, so the last two days really sucked but today didn’t at all. I woke with no migraine so that was a good start. Then I had special leave for the whole morning to see the bariatric specialist – who reassured me the band is fine and it will take time for everything to loosen and relax and become less restrictive. He then composed a letter – at my behest – to show to the nursing staff here explaining that even with an empty lap band I can still experience obstruction. OBSTRUCTION! ie. I’m not feeling uncomfortably full, there is something blocking the food from even entering my stomach. And eating more food at that point just makes things worse. Which is something some (but most certainly not all) of the staff have not understood. When I’m obstructed it’s not an “eating disorder thought”. I can’t just “take a deep breath and relax”. And I certainly can’t “take something for the nausea”. So I’ll hand the letter over at my ward round tomorrow and request they put it in my file. I’d also like to recommend any future patients with lap bands have them emptied before doing the program… But at the end of the day that won’t be any of my business. Or my problem.

After my appointment I had two hours left before I was required back at the clinic, so I did a little shopping, then sat in a cafe and FaceTimed a lovely friend for nearly an hour. I made it back in time for lunch, had one group session, then spent nearly three hours with two really close friends – one visiting from home and one from here. All in all a very pleasant, stressless day. Except for one thing…

While we are actively discouraged from forming any friendships in here (for reasons that do make sense) naturally when you live in such close quarters 24/7 with a small group of people, you tend to befriend some. Today one of my favourite ED buddies left at very short notice and under mysterious circumstances. Naturally no information regarding her departure will be forthcoming and there was no option for anyone to say goodbye to her. This morning I had briefly gone to the shop where I previously bought Hope, my anxiety bunny, thinking I’d like to buy her one, but thought I’d wait until I was leaving. I deeply regret not buying that bunny and giving it to her after lunch when she was still here. Now I’ll never see her again, have no means of contacting her or finding out how she’s doing, and I hoped she could benefit from an anxiety bunny. I will miss my friend. And now I’ll be doubly cautious not to create any close bonds with any other patients. The rules are there for a reason – to protect everyone.

Tomorrow is ward round again and I’m really hoping I’m given some concrete indication of when they think I’ll be discharged. I know it will be less than four weeks, but once I have a date, I can start putting in place appointments with my support team at home.

The next few days another lovely friend from Hobart will be visiting and I’ll have two or three opportunities to catch up with her, so I’m looking forward to that. She also sent me a really inspiring video about “redefining yourself”. The messages I took away from my childhood were:

• I am fat
• I am ugly
• I am not good enough
• I am going to fail

I cannot count the millions of times I have said those things to myself. The rather simplistic take home message from the video was redefine the “I am” ending. And at first I thought, “what to?” Then one of my gorgeous friends who visited today gave me a beautiful notepad that on the front says:

kind courageous witty determined strong

I can take that. Not entirely convinced about the witty part, but otherwise:

• I am kind
• I am courageous
• I am determined
• I am strong

And I am certainly grateful for my circle of friends.

Day 32

Woke with another headache – took the migraine tablet at the start of the day rather than soldier on until the end. Am still going to need another one before bed.

Had ward round today – I’m moved up to phase three – yay! Now I get to go out three times per week instead of two. Also discussed my continuing issues with anxiety. I’ve been moved to a low dose of diazepam three times per day as part of my normal meds. ie not optional. I’ve also been asked to write a list of all the things I worry about. When I said “everything” he said “put that at the top of the list”. I’ve filled seven pages so far. No sign of a discharge date yet as he’s looking for me to feel confident about managing my eating – without regressing to the old binge-purge-restrict cycle – before setting a date. It’s good to know what he’s looking for as now I know I can lie if needs be. But I don’t want to. I’ve come this far and I want the confidence to know I can continue the work when I get home.

Another friend from home waltzed in this afternoon, her usual vibrant ball of energiser bunny, filled with too many thoughts to get them all out at once. It was so gorgeous to see her – I’ve missed her! I normally see her four times a week at gym. Hoping I get to see her again – she’s having car troubles and we just have to wait and see if they get solved before she flies home on Sunday. I even have special leave to go out for six hours with her on Sunday – to go to church, which will be an interesting experience. I’ve only ever attended church for weddings and funerals – either as an attendee or a performer.

I did take away one brief comment from her today, and that is my inclination to focus on the negative. I’m not sure when this happened in my life – for the vast majority of it I was the eternal optimist. But somewhere along the way that has been beaten out of me. I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, as I’ve read studies that say optimists are frequently far more disappointed than pessimists. But I’m not a researcher so I can’t decide if it’s good or bad. But I know some time over the last decade I became very protective of myself – always anticipating the worst but hoping for the best. As when the worst does happen, it somehow seems easier to deal with. But then I’m also not entirely sure that’s true either. One of the lovely Doctor Who’s did once say (and I paraphrase), What’s the point of worrying? You just experience the problem twice.

I know I’m definitely someone who wants and needs to plan ahead, so I think the eternal worrying comes from me wanting to map out a solution for an as yet, non-existent problem. But none-the-less, her comment has left me wondering how and when I changed. And should I change back. And if so, how?

Day 33

Day four of my migraine/cluster headache. Ugh. But at least today I’ve seen the GP who has increased my migraine tablet from once per day, to four times (as required) and added aspirin and nausea meds as well. To be honest it’s not too bad tonight, but I can feel it coming back. This morning I felt really unwell – pain not too bad but really nauseous and light sensitive etc. Unfortunately when you’re staying in an eating disorder program, you have to eat food no matter how sick you feel. Very unfun. But at least by lunchtime I had new medications and it eased off. I’m going to take as many things as I’m allowed later tonight and hope a combination of drugs and sleep force it away.

I showed my seven pages of “things Simone worries about” to the psychiatrist this morning. He asked me to read out the whole list, clarified things he wanted more info on, and then validated that they are all reasonable worries and I have a lot on my plate. The trick is to learn to manage the worry. He wants me to download my mindfulness app again and give that a try. I used to do it quite regularly (after my previous clinic stay) but I lost the habit. I’ll try and remember to download it soon. I really suck at mindfulness. I did at least try “mindfulness of the breath” quite a few times today – when I was trying to nap and rest my headache.

This evening I got to go out for dinner – DINNER! – with my visiting friend and her husband. I even got to sit in a car for ten minutes which I haven’t done since I arrived 33 days ago. It was so NORMAL! Traffic and parking and ordering food and eating it and having a glass of wine (on top of all my meds) and having conversation and just being normal. It eased some of my fears about going home.

In our support therapy group today I talked about how I’m both really keen to go home, and really scared to go home. Keen because this isn’t life – I have no control or purpose or strong, meaningful connections, or freedom here. I can’t sleep in, charge my devices by myself, snuggle my cat, go for coffee, see my friends, drive my car, watch Netflix, drink from a glass, or go bush walking. But I’m also scared because I’ve come so far I don’t want to slip back. I’m eating food (constantly!) and maintaining a stable weight and I have support 24/7 and I’m surrounded by people who understand and I have no responsibilities. So it’s safe here – protecting me from the eating disorder – but it’s also cutting me off from having a meaningful life. There was discussion – and consensus – in group today, on the fact that there will come a time when I will just know that I’ve learned all I can here and I’ll be ready to go out into the big scary real world and practice trusting myself. The only way to know how I’ll go at home, is to go home. I know my psychiatrist is looking for confirmation from me that I’m feeling confident I can be trusted on my own. I think I’m nearly there. Not 100 per cent – but nearly. When I go out on leave I’m still pulled to doing the “wrong” thing, but I keep reminding myself that was the old me. The new me is practicing new ways.

Day 34

Not a lot to talk about today. It’s Saturday – so no groups etc at the clinic.

Went out after lunch with my cousin and caught up on all her family news. An important reminder to myself that I’m not the only person with problems and struggles. Mental health issues tend to be extremely isolating, so it’s always somewhat comforting to ‘normalise’ my abnormal. If that makes sense.

I spent time in the sunshine today – that was beautiful. I’m missing normality more and more. I spent two hours with my cousin then two hours browsing shops on my own. It’s always curious how my thought processes go when I’m alone:

I could skip afternoon tea and nobody will know (except me). I could eat shit loads of cakes and chocolates and chips and ice cream and nobody would know (except me). I could buy razor blades or vast quantities of over the counter meds and nobody would know (except me). 

I guess because I am seriously headstrong and stubborn, and my mother was always determined to control me, that when I’m on my own I’ve taught myself I can do whatever I want and nobody can stop me. I am the boss of me. Except somewhere along the way my eating disorder self overpowered my logical self and so really I’m not in control of me anyway. So the good news is that while all those thoughts did briefly cross my mind, they weren’t overpowering and I didn’t feel an urgent, compulsive need to act on them. I knew that if I did any of those things I would tell my treatment team on Monday anyway, so I wouldn’t be the only that knew. I haven’t flown all this way and done all this work to lie and cheat my way out. If I want to leave I can just fill in the discharge papers and walk out the door. I don’t know if these automatic thoughts of binging and restricting, self harm and suicide, will ever completely go away, but day by day I am starting to feel a bit more confident that I won’t have to act on them.

The only other interesting (to me) thing today, is that I’ve found a patient who knows my former eating disorder program buddy (the one that left abruptly) outside the clinic. So I can buy her a bunny and it can be delivered – with a lovely little note thanking her for her friendship and wishing her the best. I went to buy a bunny but they sold out this morning… I said I’m here two more weeks (at least) and the shop owner has my number so hopefully a bunny will arrive in time. It will mean a lot to me to send the gift to her, so fingers crossed they can source one.

All in all today has been pretty positive – full of good signs. Headache still lurking in the shadows, but otherwise I am grateful for the progress I feel and the sunshine on my bare arms today.

Day 35

’Twas church day today. My friend has been keen to get me to visit a church service with her, and a post conference service is apparently extra exciting, with faith and love and energy palpable in the air. So I was granted special leave to be out over not just one, but two meals (ended up as three) and off I went to church.

I confess I was somewhat nervous about going – in particular her expectations from me and her hope that I will find healing (for my eating disorder) through God and Jesus. Due to the level of my anxiety prior to leaving I decided on having clonazepam alongside my morning diazepam. So I was fairly relaxed by the time I got there.

I’ve been to plenty of church services before, but 99% of them were weddings and funerals. And of that 99%, the vast majority I was a paid musician at the time. I’ve definitely never been to a Hillsong type service, as they don’t ever need to hire in a classical flautist.

So today’s service began with a few songs – all upbeat and inspirational and modern, with several soloists and a funky choir. The music critic in me couldn’t help but notice they’re not the world’s number one performers, but they did a pretty good job and were certainly very high energy and devoted to their faith. The crowd were all very inspired and loving it. I’m not sure how I felt to be honest – I was perfectly happy to listen and clap along and the music is easy to listen to and the performers engaging. But I also felt like an intruder. It’s not a message that resonates with me so I didn’t want to fake abundant joy, but also didn’t want to look like I was having a bad time – because I wasn’t.

Once the first set of songs were over, the current pastors of the church came onto stage and chatted about this and that – asking everyone to pray for someone in need of a prayer (I think music played during this time?) and the pastor was sending out prayers for those who needed it. I found that very moving and touching. I do like the idea of holding someone in your thoughts and wishing that pain away – asking God for guidance and assistance. I think there have been studies done that show people who are prayed for more frequently, do experience more peace in their lives. If my laptop wasn’t dead as a dodo, I’d try to find the research. But that part of the service was very moving.

Then they did the thing about the importance of giving financially to the church, as what you give will come back to you through God – with interest. I know this is standard practice in the vast majority of mainstream churches, but I hope not to upset anyone when I say the idea doesn’t sit comfortably with me. I know churches need money for buildings and staff and good deeds etc. – but it is still something I don’t like. It feels like begging – and it’s often the poorest who give the most. But I have no desire to offend my churchgoing friends and I know it’s standard practice so I’ll leave it at that.

Once the buckets were passed around, the guest speaker John was introduced and brought onto stage. If there’s one thing I can say about John, it is that he’s very charismatic and an excellent speaker. He certainly knows how to work a crowd. Some of his message went slightly over my head, as I have negligible religious knowledge. Some of his message made me very uncomfortable, as it sits with views that are diametrically opposed to my own. And some of his message was very interesting. He certainly comes across as a man that is devoted to his beliefs, showed great compassion to the newcomers in the room (I did not choose to go up to the stage to be prayed over), and appears (at least to me) to be extremely knowledgeable about his topic.

By the end of the service my views on religion and church were no different than when I arrived.

I was not “touched” by God, or miraculously healed in anyway. I suspect for that to happen you have to – in some way – be open to it. I’m not saying I was closed to it – hey, I’ll take whatever I can and do whatever it takes to overcome my mental health struggles. But I remain as skeptical now as before I went.

I’m glad I went. I got to see my friend in a space that means the world to her. Faith is a huge part of her life and not something I’m part of. So to enter into her world for a short period of time is a privilege and an honor.

Religion still leaves me a little mystified at times, but that’s okay. The world is full of mysteries and it’s good to know we don’t understand everything. I did not leave church today converted in anyway. I’m not saying it isn’t possible – but I would suggest it highly improbable.

I always try to understand and respect views that are different to my own, so it was lovely to experience the service first hand and to feel the energy in the air.

She is a really good friend and I know her desire for me to go to church and be touched by God comes from a good place. She’s not trying to convert me for her own benefit or because she judges me. She simply wants the best for me and believes wholeheartedly that her God is a loving, gracious spirit and his presence in my life would change me for the better. I am always heartened and thankful for her belief in me, acceptance of our differences, and for her wonderful generous spirit.

Maybe I’ll go to church again one day and God will touch my spirit. Maybe not. I refuse to be completely black and white on this issue. But for today, I am the same girl I was when I left the clinic this morning. I do have a bit of light reading to go on with though – “Good or God?” by John Belvedere…

THE LAND OF OZ

One of our tasks in group therapy today was to “create three characters to live in your own ‘Land of Oz’.

Give them each something to search for that YOU are searching for through your eating disorder (NOT related to weight). Give reasons why the Mighty Wizard would say that you already have what you are looking for.”

So I thought I would share my spontaneous, quickly composed, unedited, mini land of oz stories.

Three little girls: Poppy searching for Hope; Lisa searching for Acceptance; Elsie searching for Love

As you traveled through the Lands of Oz Poppy, even under the darkest skies there was a glimmer of light out of the corner of your eye. Through the coldest storms, there was warmth at the end of the day. And when you thought your body could take no more exhaustion, you had the courage to push on through anyway. Hope has always been there for you, just waiting in the corners for you to see it.

While you seek acceptance in every direction Lisa, never forget the friends who’ve stood by you for 30 years – weathered storms of resentment, separation, grief and loss – but always, always returned when you needed them most. Friends who are strong when you have no strength, brave when you have no courage, wise when you have no idea, and loved you for your strengths, despite your flaws. And new friends with a loyalty, passion and honesty you instinctively trust. But if you truly want to see your acceptance, look to your husband, your children and your father. You have always been accepted by those who most understand you.

Love is such a complex emotion Elsie – and so many types of love. Friends, children, lovers and family. And you know deep in your heart that you are blessed with much love from all of these. The love you really want is the love and acceptance from your mother. That sense of unconditional love that can only ever come from those who raised you. It is so easy to only remember the failings from childhood that left you wounded and broken, but when you search a little deeper you know your mother’s misdirected intentions – her words and actions – came from a place of great love. She was afraid for you and afraid for your future. And she too was broken. So much so, she could not express love through words or actions, but that love was always there. Burning bright. Expressed in the only way she knew how – trying to change you to become what she perceived to be a better version of yourself. You are surrounded by love, and you always have been.

WEEK FOUR

DAY 22

Today I am afraid of recovery. I’ve been in this place before – where I’ve felt the beginnings of change and then become overwhelmed with the fear of that change and what it might herald. so I rush back to the safe and familiar.  I ate all my meals today but struggled (mentally) a little more with each one. As if I’m not deserving of recovery. Girls who’ve been here for longer than me are still struggling so much more. At dinner, I stared at my plate of food and didn’t want it. I feel so fat even though I’m assured my weight is stable. I got through the meal – slightly overtime – but got it down nonetheless. Despite the band being empty, there is still sufficient restriction that food goes down very slowly and could potentially get stuck. After two hours I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to purge. I could easily have done it – nobody would know. Except me. It is the strongest urge I’ve had since I came in. I knew I could also easily get the food to go down if I sat up, paced a little, and had a hot cup of tea. I briefly considered my options then boiled the kettle and found my favourite nurse. I’ve now finished my cup of tea and we’ve had a chat and the urge is diminishing. I could still purge now but more food has passed through the band – I can feel it gurgling down. In 20 minutes it will be supper time and my safest option will be a drink – which is permissible. I will have to face that choice shortly. But tonight the ED voice is yelling loudly and wanting to rid my body of this fearful food. I just can’t bear the thought of getting fat again. Nor can I bear the thought of going backwards and letting down all my friends and family who so desperately want me to overcome this diseased thinking that permeates every aspect of my life. Today I am bone tired – which is hard to acknowledge when all I ever do is eat, rest and write in journals. It’s not exactly physically taxing. I desperately miss exercising and would love nothing better than to put on my gym gear and run down to the park right now. Not allowed. I have to allow my body to find it’s natural equilibrium without any exercise at all. I am more sedentary than a dying lady in a nursing home. I’ll need to check my butt for bedsores soon. Anyway – supper awaits. I haven’t purged. I had a cup of tea, a debrief with a nurse, and I journaled. These things help. The urge is strong but I’m trying to be stronger…

DAY 23

I’m in one of those non-linear periods of recovery. Last week began quite desolate and things improved and I finished the week with a sense of positivity and optimism. Today has been a shit day and I’ve cried so much I must be getting dehydrated. One of the girls I’ve befriended has had some other issues and needs to go to hospital. I’d been in chatting with her early this morning then went in later to giver her a big hug. I was called over shortly after and told not to involve myself with other patients – it’s inappropriate. Now I totally understand why these rules are in place and the nurse wasn’t mean about it, but it triggered a huge reaction in me – harking back to my childhood where I always tried to do the right thing by everybody and always ended up doing the wrong thing by somebody. The old “no matter what I do it’s never good enough” feeling. And it is so reminiscent of the every day life of the 17 years I spent with my mother. So I’ve spent the day in tears and feeling highly anxious. While at the same time feeling completely idiotic as it was such a minor reprimand and a normal person would just get on with their day. I’m not normal, it just left me feel like an utter failure in a lose-lose situation, and I started questioning why am I here. Do I even belong? Will they kick me out? Am I sick enough? Am I just a big fat drama queen seeking attention and validation? The anxiety wouldn’t abate – even with a clonazepam prior to lunch and dinner. And for the first time in ten days I had to purge my dinner. An overwhelming, bitterly disappointing result. I very naughtily paced around for 30 minutes – up and down corridors and stairwells. I tried flushing it down with hot tea and a glass of water. No go. It all came back. Big fail. The gorgeous student nurse popped in to see me earlier on so I told her all about it and how anxious I feel. And sad. And bitterly disappointed. She checked my self harm and suicidal urges to determine if I’m safe. Yes. I’m safe. Sad and disappointed – but safe. I just want today to be over so I can start afresh tomorrow. What’s done cannot be undone. I am surprised at the level of restriction that remains in an empty lap band and might try to get another appointment with the surgeon to discuss it. I’d also like to take him up on his offer to write a letter for the staff here explaining some of the physical realities of a lap band – and how every time I say “it’s stuck” doesn’t mean it’s an eating disorder thought. It means my food is actually stuck and putting more food and liquid on top of it just leads me one step closer to vomiting. Over all today I’ve felt this sense of hopelessness and exhaustion and why am I here? And I know this recovery business is very much an up and down affair – and I’m even prepared to acknowledge I’ve made some progress – but the downs are hard to take. I’m going to try and take an early sleeping pill, and have an early night and try to wake up tomorrow with a fresh attitude and a fresh start. If this journey was easy everyone would do it.

DAY 25

I’m still struggling. I know I was making progress for a while, but now I’m not so sure. I guess it’s the cha cha cha of recovery. I had a migraine last night so was quite drugged with a migraine ‘hangover’ this morning. That doesn’t help. Then our first group today was music therapy and I just completely fell apart. The therapist had a basket of percussion instruments – all the kinds of things we’d give to the kids in band back when I was teaching – claves, maracas, clackers, tambourines etc. I just became completely overwhelmed with grief. Which feels ridiculous given that I chose to walk away from music in 2016 and I still think it was the right decision. I’d done it so long and I was so tired and performing was becoming too physically taxing on my body. I’d done my time – I gave it away. But at the same time it was the one and only thing I ever wanted to do and I never fully realised those dreams. And they certainly won’t be realised now. I was so upset I had to leave the class, they gave me a clonazepam and put me to bed. I had a good sob and I’m hoping I can finally put that grief behind me. Thank heavens music therapy is only once a fortnight. I felt really flat for the rest of the day – I also have bad hay-fever from all the building works and up until tonight I was only permitted one antihistamine per day. I’m finally allowed two so that’s a relief. I had another meltdown at dinner which is just so humiliating. When I saw how huge the meal was, and how unappetizing, and knowing how much difficulty I’ve been having getting food to go through the lap band even though it’s empty. So I sat and stared and the lovely gentle nurse kept encouraging me but I couldn’t do it. I left it all. Had to have the supplement instead. This too shall pass…. I’m hoping after the past few days of struggling I can get my shit together and pull my socks up and just get on with this recovery business. I don’t know how to effectively deal with the anxiety and I think that will have to become an integral part of this process. I believe the staff can see that even when I’m struggling and I can’t eat a meal, I’m here and I’m trying really hard. I’m a hundred per cent honest all the time and trying to commit to everything to the best of my ability. I find the discouragement of forming friendships with other patients to be extremely disturbing and very difficult. It goes against the very essence of my being to see someone struggling and upset and not react or respond in some capacity. I understand the logic, but I hate it.

I have quite a few things to look forward to over the next week. My husband will be here with me Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I’ve been moved to phase two so I can take leave over a mealtime – so we can leave here at 10:45 and don’t need to be back until 3:15 on both weekend days. Monday we have an appointment with the family therapist so he can give him information on how best to support me at home. Then on Wednesday one of my close friends from home will be able to visit in the afternoon. I think we can go out from 2-5:45 pm so that will be exciting. And then the weekend another close friend is visiting from home and I should have two opportunities to spend lots of time with her. So that’s all quite exciting and makes me feel very loved. I’m looking forward to all my visitors and to getting out into the fresh air. I’ve even bought pretty new dresses to wear as I’m sick of slopping around in track pants. So despite my miserable few days I’m trying to stay positive and focus on the good things that are to come over the next week or two. I wish I knew how long I was going to be here. I have a funny feeling it will be a lot more than six weeks.

DAY 26

Something is wrong. My lap band is causing me so much trouble despite being emptied. The x-ray last week showed it hasn’t slipped, but I’m sure I should not be having this much trouble with an empty band. I am so determined to keep food down – I really have NO desire to purge – or even spontaneously – vomit. I want to recover. I want to be healthy and well. I want to be normal. My breakfast and morning tea were absolutely fine, but lunch was a living hell. I did keep it down but it took 3.5 hours of rocking back and forth and curling up in a ball and doing deep breathing and pacing and staying away from fluids. It finally went down. I don’t know if it all went down – but enough that the pain and the pressure eased. Ninety minutes later I had to stare at dinner. I knew it would be a struggle but I figured I got lunch down eventually so maybe dinner would be the same. Nope. Same pain. Same pressure. I curled and rocked for an hour. Then did a big pacing circuit up and down stairs for 45 minutes. Curled and rocked some more. Drank some water then purged everything – including the remains of lunch – just before we had to have supper. I just don’t believe an empty lap band should be giving me this much grief. But it’s Friday night so not much I can do until next week. I’m contemplating asking if the registrar is in over the weekend (sometimes they come in) and requesting I just have supplements for lunch and dinner until I can see the lap band surgeon. Trouble is, I’m confident they’ll say no. Lunch over the weekend I’ll be eating out with my husband so I can choose soups and/or smoothies. I do have the option to just stare at dinner each night and refuse to eat it – then they’ll give me a supplement anyway.

It’s frustrating me so much because I’d really thought having it drained would be a big deal (mentally) and would make a huge difference (physically) and now I feel no freer, and just as fearful of food, as I did before. And then the questions is, if nothing is wrong with the band it means I can’t comply with the program so there’s no point being here. And if there is something wrong, the solution is likely to be surgical, and does that mean it would be removed? I know I’m starting to ruminate on a whole ton of what-ifs and maybes, and anxiety won’t help the situation at all. Somehow I just have to figure out how to manage it until I see the surgeon. Aside from my fears regarding the lap band, I feel okay. Very excited about having visitors to look forward to over the next week. It will break the monotony and remind me about the life I’ve left behind. My mood has been dismally low this week so I’m hoping seeing loved ones will help lift my mood. I’m tired of feeling dreary. I’ve received no indication from my psychiatrist how long I’m likely to be here, but I think my original assumption of six weeks was possibly very optimistic. I’ve been here nearly four weeks and there’s still a long way to go. I have to say, aside from being forced to have good nutrition six times a day, the most useful part of the program is the almost daily one-on-one chats with the psych nurses. Most of them are fabulous and it’s really helpful to chat with them about all my anxieties and fears. The group sessions vary – some are great, some are ordinary, and occasionally some distress the living hell out of me. I am grateful to be doing this program though – its is definitely what I need. I just wish it was a faster fix.

DAY 28

I have learned today that my mother was right about one thing – absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

I have now been incarcerated for four weeks and yesterday was the first time I’ve seen my husband since I arrived. We’ve had two whole days together and will have a family therapy session together tomorrow before he needs to fly home. We have never been apart for four weeks before and it really is quite a stretch of time. Particularly as I’m in an unfamiliar, difficult place, and I know he struggles emotionally when I’m not there.

As I am now elevated to a phase two patient, I can go out over one meal time, twice per week. So we were able to leave the clinic together from 10:15-3:15 yesterday and today. Five whole hours of normality. He was given instructions on when and how much I should eat and post meal supervision rules, then we headed back to his hotel and tried to forget all about the separation and just enjoy time together. After the obligatory conjugal relations were done and dusted we ordered room service ($60 for a small amount of mediocre food) and then indulged in my most favourite, and anticipated, activity of the weekend. He dyed my hair 😀

My hairdresser had shipped over a little box with half a dozen tubes of colour and some hydrogen peroxide, plus a mixing bowl and comb/brush. My husband had packed scales and then he meticulously measured out 10 grams of this and 20 grams of that until the perfect paste was formed. We followed all the hairdresser instructions and about an hour later – leaving a bit of a blood bath in the hotel bathroom – my hair was back to its proper colour, with no regrowth shining through. I am slightly regretful of the dye accidentally left on one of the pristine white hotel towels, but I’m beyond happy now that my hair looks less scrappy. I have no doubt my husband considered this intimate time to be the highlight of his weekend as well 😉

Today we repeated the obligatory conjugal visit (hey – I feel bad about being away from home for so long!) then headed out for a lovely lunch, a beautiful stroll along the riverside, and then quite by happy accident, discovered a shopping mall. I have made a mental note of its exact location for future return visits. The rest of the day we spent together at the clinic, mostly snuggled up and snoozing as I’m still so damn tired all the time. It was just lovely to spend so much time together. Which is not a sentence I have said out loud – or even thought – for a very long time. I will be really sad to farewell him tomorrow.

I should see my psychiatrist tomorrow and there are two important things I want to flag with him. Firstly, I want to see the bariatric surgeon asap for reassurance the band is okay. Or if it isn’t, what to do about it. And secondly, I want to suggest a discharge date of 14 March (four more weeks) as I have a camping trip with a good friend from 15-19 March that we are both really excited about, and for a number of reasons, it can’t be rescheduled. So I’d like to aim for 14 March discharge and then take home information and resources and meal plans to be supported by my own dietitian, psychologist, psychiatrist, GP, and friends and family at home. I truly hope this is a workable plan as I’m not keen to discharge and then be readmitted. However if that were necessary, I would be prepared to do so.

While I find myself feeling wobbly from time to time I still do find myself totally committed to recovery.

Which looks to be a combination of creating new habits – and sticking with them long enough they are comfortable and familiar – and learning to effectively manage depression and anxiety. Plus somehow (and this is the big unknown) finding a way to accept my body and value myself. And it has to come from me. I believe this will be the biggest obstacle. But I also know I can only climb one mountain at a time. All in all I’m feeling good after a weekend with more normality, and I’m excited about the two visitors from home who are flying over to see me this week. I hope it is a good week 🙂