When the burden of being a burden becomes so burdensome the burden can no longer be bourne, it’s crunch time. Disappear into Wonderland with the big white rabbit, going permanently mad? Or just go – permanently? Or do what needs to be done and reach out? Clearly the latter is the healthier option.
I live in a state of being permanently temporary. I guess we all do to some extent… But since ceasing paid employment at the end of 2017, my routine has been – to put it mildly – flexible. I like it this way.
It’s very bad for me.
I identify really strongly as “the girl with the eating disorder”. I need a better identity in order to move past this one… I get asked from time to time what to “do” to help or support me. I’m usually flummoxed by this question. I have no idea how to help myself – how can I provide information I don’t know?!
A coded question, that in some circumstances, is a call for help. When struggling with some variety of mental health problems, it’s […]
Hope seems like such a positive emotion. Something anyone would want to have and strive for. Something we’d all hope to have […]
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change… And one of those things is the endless leakage from two of my laparoscopic incisions. So much for in one day and out the next surgery. I’m so freaking tired… Sequence of events.
Monday afternoon I presented at the hospital for an overnight admission to have my gastric lap band removed. I wasn’t thrilled but was coming to terms with it, and valiantly thinking of it as a turning point in recovery. Which may well be the case. Who knows?
In 2012, I became the very happy recipient of a a gastric lap band. In 2019, I’m having it removed. On Monday to be precise. I’m petrified.
Salty tears stream down my face, landing on the corners of my lips before dripping off my chin. The deep magenta flush glowing on my cheeks, a stark contrast to the enormous grey circles appearing beneath my reddened eyes.
Relapse. For those of us in recovery from one mental health issue or another, it’s a filthy word. Who wants to relapse? There’s a classic meme showing the difference between reality and expectations when it comes to mental health recovery – expectation is a nice straight line on a consistent upward trajectory. Reality looks like a ball of wool under siege from a horde of rabid kittens.
The trouble with pendulums, is you never know where the highs, lows, and status quos are. Part of having mental health issues, is swinging wildly from one extreme to the other – eat too much, too little. Sleep too much, too little. Work too much, too little. But being kind?
Who would think you could have too much kindness.
People with eating disorders often talk about the eating disorder voice that natters away, telling us what to do. Or not. Undermining recovery. Making us doubt ourselves. But I wonder what that means to someone without an eating disorder voice? Or even what it means to other eating disordered people – I doubt we’re all the same.
Always reaching out for freedom.
Always chained.
Trapped.
My hands are tied and as lost as my soul is.
It seems like I’m always someone else – or pieces of other people put together. Somehow it’s always easier to be someone else.
I have wanted death I have cried for it I have sought the final oblivion of death for as long as I am able to remember. Yet, I am here, I am alive and I can not help but wonder why? Why did the rope not strangle me, or the pills stop my heart? Why when the trigger was pulled, the gun did not spark? Why, when my blood was flowing, did my pulse still beat? Why when the voices yelled death and murder was I not defeated?
