TWO WEEKS
A lot can happen in two weeks. You can lose everything, as so many people around the world are now discovering. You can become isolated, locked away, afraid and no longer in control of your life.
A lot can happen in two weeks. You can lose everything, as so many people around the world are now discovering. You can become isolated, locked away, afraid and no longer in control of your life.
Bipolar II is… my diagnosis. Not my choice. Bipolar II is characterised by Dr Jim Phelps as “mood swings but not manic”.
Navigating a lifetime of depression is like being an avid bushwalker and mountain climber. For years on end the scenery is stunning, the flora and fauna breathtaking and the hard yards well rewarded. For short periods of time steep, rocky, unnavigable mountains appear that seem interminable and impossible to navigate. Clambering over invisible rocks always happens in the dark and every inch of your body screams, No! I can’t do it any more! There are people at the summit cheering, saying, Come on – not far now! You know there are people below struggling on the same mountain, or back in the safety of the pretty woods. But on that dark mountain, you’re alone, lost in that sense of hopelessness – completely reliant on voices from afar – and the squabble between the angels on your shoulders.
Highly sensitive people are often empathic and empaths often feel other people’s emotions radiating out like a solar flare. No amount of 50+ sunscreen can shield the soft flesh from the onslaught of heat – so we absorb it. Which is fine, because not all emotions are dreary. Joy, hope and excitement wash through me in the same way as grief, fear and despair. Trouble is – I don’t let it go. I spend more time grieving and despairing for someone else’s woes than they do. I’m more invested in other people’s problems than they are. This seems like an inappropriate boundary – not to mention, an excuse to stop dealing with my issues.
“We belong to what we value, not what we desire.” A cool guy I know. I love that statement – it really resonates with me. I spend time and energy, make commitments and secret pacts, with the things I value. Not with the things I desire.
On 29 July 2018, I met a girl. A real girl. Due to the vagaries of distance and finances, we couldn’t meet in real life – until 44 days ago. That girl has changed my life.
Just as I was knee-deep, wallowing around in my little starving pity party, I received the feedback from my manuscript assessor regarding the first draft of my memoir – temporarily titled Stalked by Demons. Guarded by Angels | The Girl with the Eating Disorder.
I’m the girl in limbo who lost who she was and doesn’t know what comes next. In the meantime, the grocery bill has significantly decreased at the expense of my sanity and my husband’s peace of mind.
It takes six little words feeding the eating disorder voice, to override a year of conversations nurturing the timid voice of recovery.
It takes very little time in the world of mental health treatments, before acronyms and mnemonics become everyday language. Psychiatric therapies have come a long way from the induced seizures, exorcisms and lobotomies of the past. Today there are countless methods of treatment – pharmacological, behavioural, community, and medical. Psychiatrists tend to be the big boss of drugs and medical treatments like ECT or TMS, while psychologists tend to deliver the behavioural and community therapies. And they love their acronyms. For anyone out there that hasn’t been blessed with the opportunity of gracing the couches and uncomfortable plastic chairs of therapy groups, I thought I’d share a summary of my experience of the ABCDs of therapy.
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 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?!
I have found God. Some people reading this will rejoice. Others will wring their hands and wonder what the fuck happened to […]
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.
There are many people in my world who have wronged me. No more than anyone else – we all deal with irritating twats, ignorant loudmouths, and just plain rude arseholes. Forgiving the sins – big and small – of others, is a powerful tool that benefits the forgiver more than than the forgiven. At the end of the day, most irritating, ignorant, arseholes are probably blissfully unaware of their foot-in-mouth disease.