what i’ll be thinking about this valentine’s day.

There are a few blog posts I want to do. I want to put up the skills I’m learning in DBT, I want to look at some of the stuff I’m doing to actually try and stuff, but for now I’m going to talk about relationships and BPD because that’s what’s on my mind. This is a bare long post. Sorry.

The Internet is literally full of people giving their opinions on dating people with BPD. Most of these opinions are pretty fucking negative. There are websites devoted to “How to tell if you’re dating a crazy, borderline girl”, why you should never get involved with someone with BPD (it’s been suggested that we have no empathy and are actually evil), and even a “How to train your borderline” site for those stupid enough to take us on. Apparently we make bad girlfriends, boyfriends, fiancés, husbands, wives, partners, whatever really.

Now, I really fucking hate the internet sometimes. It seems to be full of guys that hate that they got dumped, seeking revenge by writing out how their ex “must have BPD”, but at the same time, some of the hateful articles out their do have some elements of truth I guess, and that’s what makes me really upset.

I’m starting a new relationship right now. I have no real expectation of where it will go. I like Gym some ridiculous amount. He makes me laugh and tells me nice things and is very silly and jumps around my bedroom with me and thinks it’s a good idea to take leftover drugs at 4am because its lolz and I find him bare attractive and its all kinda good right now. I didn’t want to like him. I was looking for an easy fuck. I was ready to inevitably feel a bit rubbish or decide that maybe he liked me too much and run off. In the end though, he won me over. And it was all him – he kept asking me out in a joke/serious way until I eventually got annoyed at him and gave in. We are not the world’s most romantic couple, but we’ll do.

The problems come in when I think about how I relate to him. I knew exactly how to get him to want me and on some level and I do believe I kinda manipulated him to catch him in some sort of web of my spider-evilness. I don’t know how much of it is premeditated because it doesn’t feel like some sort of plan, but sometimes it feels that way. It feels like it’s a mixture of the perfect amount of filth, the perfect amount of nonchalance, the perfect amount of emotional distancing. It’s about being physically attainable, but mentally cut off. You show the right amount of flesh and the right amount of guarded psychological distress and you’re in. Its basically shouting, “I’m emotionally vulnerable, will sleep with you and expect nothing in return.” I think a lot of guys don’t expect that. I’m really upfront and confident in what I’m doing and men seem drawn to it, often because they secretly think that they can break through all the emotional defenses and maybe get to know you. You make yourself super buff so you know and they know your fucking desirable, then you feed them a slight bit of emotional drama and suddenly they’re interested. It like they good “hot AND deep…. Shit she’s different and worth knowing.” Men can be very predictable.

What makes me sad is this is what they say in all these helpful “How to spot a borderline” articles. At first, we manipulate you with sex and being damaged.  I don’t exactly do it on purpose, but at the same time, it is kinda what I do. I don’t think, “here, have this calculated amount of my drama”, but instead I try to hide the drama as much as I can. Unfortunately, a body covered in scars (old and new), regular psychiatric appointments and having mental health workers visit you daily can sometimes make hiding it hard. And I don’t look like a stereotypical sket either. I wear DMs almost everyday, cut up t-shirts, and long sleeves, it’s just I also wear a lot of eyeliner, lipstick, tacky jewellery, shorts or little skirts and have my belly out. I look obvious and I like to think it makes it seem like I’m hot, but don’t give a fuck. It might not though. And that’s just how I dress for everyone. Saying that though, every time I go out is an opportunity to meet a boy so that’s not saying much. Still, I dress with getting men in mind so I guess that this is me behaving seductively. I feel like a right idiot writing this. I don’t think I’m necessarily super attractive or anything; I just work what I’ve got.

Apparently, this sort of behavior is common in people with BPD. As a group, it seems both people writing for and against dating someone with BPD, sexuality and seduction are apparently something we do well. I don’t know if I do it well, but I know I can be a tad… inappropriate (?) to get a man’s attention. You can read a lot about how people with BPD use overt sexuality to get what they want. It’s a validation thing. It doesn’t really matter if you even like someone, they just have to want you to validate that you are attractive because they would sleep with you. You crave the validation that you can be attractive and people would want to be around you in some way, so you pick the easiest way to seek validation from people you don’t know – look shit hot and flirt like a motherfucker. When you’re turned down, you feel like fucking nothing, but most of the time you get at least some positive attention. I really hate that I do this because really, it can make you feel worthless in the long run, and also it’s gross and also it makes me a bit of a bad feminist. I disagree entirely with the idea that anyone’s worth is based on his or her levels of physical attractiveness in the eyes of others, but I apply it to myself anyway. I wish I actually didn’t give a fuck rather than sculpting an image like I don’t.

My next phase of starting a relationship is one you don’t see on the sites warning you away from people with BPD. It’s the “SHIT! RUN!” phase. You start to actually like someone and worse of all, they start to like you back. Except they don’t like you back because you suck so much and all they actually want to do is hurt you. Liking people is something that comes naturally to me. I actually pretty much like everyone, especially when they’re new. There are rules to like people (obviously). Like, if they are someone else’s (because yes, people are kinda possessions in my mind), then you can’t get too close because they’ll always be someone they like more and you’ll always be inferior so are likely to want more than they can give because other people are in the way, so you distance yourself because they can’t like you enough. You don’t want to get caught out liking someone who hates you, so you let them lead to start with. You don’t start conversations, text first or call people because they probably hate you and would find it annoying. Sometimes, when you get really caught up in someone, you break this rule with disastrous consequences. You break it when you at your most agitated, say and do thinks you regret and punish yourself for doing it later, then resolve to deliberately stay out of that persons way even more so you can’t be vulnerable. You have to take the stance that they probably don’t like you, so you protect yourself by being proactive and deciding to not like them first. This is how I make friends and to be honest, it doesn’t work very well. It takes a lot of effort to get me to loosen my grip on the rules, and generally a lot of time. In this phase, you have to be prepared to run the fuck away from people. At all points, you have to have an escape route planned. If someone actually likes you, they’re lying so you have to run. If you actually like someone, you’re vulnerable and you have to run.

I actually find myself asking people, after years of knowing them, if we can be friends now. This more often then not shocks people a little as they thought we were already friends. I however, thought they hated me the whole time.

The next phase is what I think of as the test phase. It’s not tests you plan or want to give (in fact, I try really hard to avoid them because I think they make me a bad person), but once you like someone enough and start to believe that maybe they like you, they start to play on your brain. When you get distressed, you want them to fix it, but you have no idea how to ask or what it is that needs fixing, so you start acting out. It seems pretty common for people to have an increase in BPD behaviours when starting a new relationship and I don’t think this is because we’re all horrible and manipulative. For me, it’s just I want to get someone to understand how much I hurt and to believe someone cares, so self-harming and other impulsive behaviours start escalating, and you start pulling people in to help you. It’s those blood all over you, pills across the floor, in need of hospital attention moments. If someone helps you, then maybe for a little while you think they understand, care and that maybe they can fill whatever it is that is missing. So you act out more, desperate for someone to understand and then fix you. They can’t fix you, but you hope anyway. It’s kinda like you’re testing them – seeing how far you can push someone to know they care. In the moment though, what you’re thinking is “shit. I’m vulnerable because I like someone and they hate me and I got everything wrong. Best do something to feel better. Well now I need help so I’m going to involve the first person to pop into my brain. Of course that’s the new person I’ve been upset about. Now they’re coming to my rescue. Maybe they care.” It’s a temporary release from the constant stress of not knowing for sure if someone likes you.

There’s also the obsessional, idealization phase. This one’s on those horrible websites too. The new person seems to do everything right and they quickly become the centre of your world, so you treat the accordingly. You shower them with everything positive you have to give, not for some manipulative, mean way, but because that’s how you genuinely feel. There is nothing they can do to change the fact that they are amazing, even if they really fuck up and you know that. They get all your attention, all your thoughts, all your time. You change your whole identity to fit with them, which of course doesn’t make a difference because you don’t have a real identity anyway and they are so perfect that you want to steal their identity for yourself. You start to rely on them because they are so different from people that have come before and they can give you everything you need and will save you from yourself because they have the answer to the unknown question that’s been bothering you your entire life. Apparently, this makes people feel wanted and special and is all part of the evil borderline’s plan to ruin someone’s life by luring them in through being nice.

This is me and Gym. I think this is an appropriate picture because I look like I completely adore him. I’m mostly putting it up to show off my new hair though as the only pictures I have of it are with him blah. (He doesn’t always dress like that by the way – fancy dress party).

But like everything, this phase ends too. This is kinda where I think I am right now – that place where things start to change, inbetween the two phases. Every little thing is a sign that the other person hates you and wants to hurt you. I think it’s to do with beliefs. If you fully believe that you are awful, then you fully believe your can’t be liked. Everything becomes an attack. Youget over it because the other person does something lovely or you forget about it or whatever, and suddenly, you start to feel happy and comfy again and it’s all good. Again, it’s not even thought about, it’s just how you feel at the time. It’s constantly being on the look out for slights against you that prove your own opinions of yourself. When you get signs, everything is over; when you don’t, everything seems perfect. You’re always waiting for those signs that they’re going to hurt you though, and it’s better if you can push them away before they that happens. You avoid the future abandonment by pushing away the person who might abandon you. Then they prove they’re not going anyway and you stop pushing.

Today was a bad day for Gym and me if you hadn’t guessed yet. I got upset because he woke up unhappy and therefore he was bored of me. Yesterday, I decided he didn’t actually want to sleep with me enough so he thought I was ugly. The two thoughts together wound up in me telling him I’m considering breaking up with him because he is done with me and won’t admit it to me yet. Obviously, he responded by saying I’m an idiot and he really like me and thinks I’m super hot, but I didn’t believe him and we had this massive talk where he decided I have to just try and talk to him more about my worries rather than ruminate on them till they get too big. Maybe then I’ll trust him. Although I don’t think that’ll work, I eventually agreed to try because I actually like him and didn’t want to upset him. It was ok for a while… until I was trying to explain why I was sad again because I felt like I was ruining his day because I made him an omlette, but it was too big and he got too full. Yes, this really upset me because I ruined everything and he hated me. He told me he didn’t want to have the same conversation again because it was just long and went round in loops. I took that to mean he finds me boring so asked him to leave. As he was walking to the front door, I started raging, which he heard so came back. It went down hill from there. I was shouting and swearing and hitting myself in the head and crying and telling him how much I was failing and how much of a cunt I am and how I just fuck everything up and how much he hates me. I went on and on till he got super angry at me and started shouting “I just want a normal girlfriend. I want a girlfriend that can trust me and doesn’t tell me to leave when she’s upset and actually believes I want to be near her.” Even in his anger, he’s kinda nice. He was shouting “Why do you just think you suck at everything? You could do so much. You’re so smart, but you don’t think you can do anything when you could do anything. It makes me so angry.” The normal thing stung though. He hates it when I get worked up because he thinks I just shut down and make it difficult for him. I don’t know if I do, but still. Then he got really angry because I wouldn’t tell him I wanted to see him. I never ask to see him. Ever. He has to make the call to see me. He told me over and over to give him a straight answer, but all I could say was “There is no right answer. If I say yes, then I’m pressuring you to see me. If I say no, then I’m not giving you the attention you might want.” Eventually I just said no because it was easier than actually saying I wanted to see him. I’m vulnerable if I admit I want to see him, plus the prospect that I might become a burden is something that I’m so scared of, I’d rather not see him at all. Again, he was pissed because he just wanted me to be able to tell him I want to see him to show I care. Got that wrong as well I guess. I then asked Gym if he thought I was cut out for being in a relationship, to which he responded, “No one likes to hear this, but I just don’t think you’re trying hard enough. You’re doing everything right, just not enough.” Again, I freaked out. That just means I’m doing it wrong because I’m actually trying really hard, but it’s just not enough because I’m not enough and I suck etc.

So yer, I’ve been really worried about how BPD affects my ability to form healthy relationships. The Therapist told met trust issues are part and parcel of BPD. On top of that, a lot of this stuff seems pretty standard as far as the internet tells me. However, that doesn’t make it easier. All the information I find seems to say it is possible to have a relationship with someone with BPD, but it’s hard work. I don’t want to be hard work. I don’t want to be difficult. I want to be worth it and it just seems like I’m not. In a lot of ways, I’m beginning to think that maybe I just shouldn’t be in a relationship. Possibly ever. I’m upsetting someone I care about because I don’t know how to trust him, assume and look for the worst and have so little self-worth I can’t imagine that he even likes me. It upsets him. I find it difficult to understand why because it’s not like I don’t like him. I duno. I’m just worried I’m broken in some fundamental way that makes this all impossible. It doesn’t help that he really doesn’t understand BPD and thinks I don’t actually have it. I’m just really scared if I don’t shape up quickly, he’ll leave because I can’t give be a satisfying, “normal” girlfriend and he just has a bad time with me. I don’t know how to be different, but if I don’t learn how, I’ll probably be alone forever. I’m fucking up something good because I can’t hack being alive. Urgh.

Happy Valentine’s I guess.

things in the last few days.

Wednesday 14th November 2012

So I’ve been having a bit of a blog break. My world has been a moody, hectic and stressful. I withdraw from the blog world when things are rubbish. Things are a bit rubbish right now.

The biggest rubbish thing is that Juno is very, very unwell. She started vomiting everything she ate and got really weak and feeble. The Fam took her to the vets last night and she needed an emergency operation, which she had in the middle of the night last night. Turns out, she’d swallowed a peach stone and it’d got stuck in her intestine. It’d completely blocked her gut and her gut had started to grow around it, so it was becoming a part of her. If we’d left it any longer, her gut would have probably ruptured overnight and she would have died, but she’s healthy and young and got there in time so she looks like she’s going to be ok. They had to remove six inches of her gut, and they also spayed her so she’s pretty unwell right now. She’s still at the vets to be monitored, plus she’s super doped up on painkillers, but me and the Brother got to visit her today and she seemed pleased to see us. Her bat ears stuck up and she rested her head on us and ate a little food and drank a little water. Hopefully she’ll be home on Friday (if everything goes as smoothly as it seems right now), but we won’t know for sure if she’s fully healed till a weeks time. Luckily, they don’t think there’ll be any lasting complications. Fingers crossed.

Juno at the vets, snuggling the Brother

So yer, right now I have no dog and I’m worried and sad and have no one to look after me in that way that dogs look after you. They really do save you sometimes. I miss her and she’s only been gone a day. I hate not having a dog around. So much.

On top of this, our kitchen has just started being redecorated. This is stressful in an eating disorder way (obvs.), but also because my house is full of people and its loud and hard to feel comfortable. They turn up, bump into HTT, smash things and generally lead to me hiding away. I hate people in my house, especially when I’m meant to be home alone. I like my alone time. It’s important to me. I like empty space sometimes.

The £2,000 peach stone

There are good points to it though. In one of my more hyper moments, I decided to create an incredibly selfish Facebook event in which I invite myself to people’s houses for dinner so that they can cook me nice foods to make the transition a little easier. I’ve been struggling with food a bit recently and I’ve lost a couple of kilos, so I think it’s important to try keep my eating up regardless. I figured what better to kick an eating disorder sneaking back in than letting other people cook me normal people meals. I used to find other people cooking for me horrific, then uncomfortable, but now fine. I figure this way, I’m less in control and will probably at least maintain a vaguely healthy weight for a while. Maybe I’ll even gain some weight. That’d probably be a good thing if it does happen. It’s only two weeks. Plus I’ll get to spend a little more time with my friends, which is always fun. Yesterday I saw a couple of people and their aces gecko Ricardo and we ordered Thai and drunk wine and gin and I had a nice time. It was good to see people. Especially people I don’t see enough and actually really like.

But yer, the kitchen makes life more difficult. It’s annoying and makes eating hard. Especially with Valium withdrawal. Valium withdrawal symptoms come and go in varying intensities, but it basically sucks out. I occasionally break and end up taking more than I should, but it is so hard you have no idea. It’s like the worst flu ever – tremors run through your entire body, you’re exhausted but can’t sleep, you get extreme fluctuations in body temperature and mood, my brain is louder, my appetite is just gone, there’s dizziness and generally feeling like you could collapse at any point, your head gets foggy and everything gets less real, you shake and have that not sleep you get with a fever, nightmares, increased urges self-injurious thoughts, anger, irritability, feeling like you literally might be about to die because you can’t breathe, feel nauseous and so dizzy you literally cannot stand. It’s shit. Another reason blogging has been a little rubbish recently.

Another stress had been the major amount of life admin I’ve had to go through recently. Sorting out my freedom pass, upgrading my phone with O2 and Carphone Warehouse, sorting out the Ma’s new phone contract, switching banks, sorting out a new student bank account, trying to work out uni, sorting out deferring my Professional Careers Development Loan due to being in benefits, having no money. It basically means I’ve spent what feels like years on hold. On hold to O2, Carphone Warehouse, NatWest, Co-Operative Bank, Tesco Mobile, Job Centre Plus, university etc. Urgh. I actually feel like I’ve done so much, but it’s probably haven’t done all that much really. I still haven’t decided if I want to insure my iPhone and iPad, so that might be a little bit more admin, but it’s like the least important bit left.

Treatment is also really bringing me down. I’m hating on the HTT, arguing with CDAT, telling the Psychologist I hate him more than anyone else and how he can’t help me, telling everyone off, shouting at the IMPART group that I’m never coming back because they suck. I don’t even know if I need help, but everyone thinks I do and I don’t know what to do about it. Double urgh.

Thursday 15th November 2012

So I did my finish my post yesterday – I got too Valium ill. Sorry.

Things are a bit brighter today because I got to pick up Juno from the vet because the recovery has been going so well. She’s going to need special food and special medications and special walks for a week, but she’s doing well. She’s very confused from all the painkillers and I think they make life a little difficult, but she’s beautiful and home and the vets all really like her and she doesn’t even have to wear a cone on her head because she’s been so good and isn’t even touching her stitches because she’s so well-behaved. I love my puppy so much. I’ve been appointed supreme pup watcher for the next week so I’m going to be well on watching her to keep her safe. She makes me so happy. I’m still scared, but it looks like she’s going to be ok. I now have a purpose again – keep Juno safe and healthy and happy.

I also actually went to my IMPART group today. It wasn’t as bad as the past few weeks, but I think I’ve realised that I’m actually quite behind where a lot of others in the group are right now. I’m pretty sure I’m the youngest and I’m pretty sure that I’m not as good at managing my emotions and impulses as most of them. What they are showing us seems impossible right now. Today, it was anger and anxiety management, but it was all like “in between the trigger and the behaviour, you have all this time to intervene and stop your thought processes etc.”, but all I could think was “what time between trigger and behaviour? There is no time between trigger and behaviour.” It made me feel pretty useless. I don’t think I can stop my impulsive behaviours. I honestly don’t know how. In showing me how, I got to listen to what other people do and it was all like “exercise” which I can’t do without going overboard, or “learn to be assertive” or “step outside the situation.” I am really not good at being assertive and have pretty poor interpersonal skills. I do ok with the people who know me really well, but not so much with new people, and even when the people I’m in love with make me feel too much, I often react in the wrong ways. They deal with it though. I think there’s a general feeling within my friendship circle that I’m not actually the problems, which makes my friends super aces. I’m just realising I really don’t have any coping mechanisms for managing my emotions. Except self-harm, spending money, not eating and getting fucked. Way to go Ellie – fucking useless at self-regulation. Triple urgh.

I am actually complying with treatment though. Kinda. I struggle with the Valium thing a bit, and I drink too much and smoke too much, self-injure too much. I know this, but I’m not trying to fix it because I don’t have any other ways too. Still, I actually went to all my appointments. On most days, I do actually get dressed and out of bed, even if I haven’t slept much. I am really trying to be budget and to eat lots and to stay as safe as possible. I don’t call the HTT as much as I should, but I don’t like them as a whole unit. They can’t keep me safe from myself and I won’t let them really. Maybe I’m half complying.

The thing is, although I’m taking some action to get better, I’m not sure if I believe I’m ill or deserve help or need to get better or have the motivation to. Intense emotions suck out, but sometimes they are great because intense love and intense happiness and intense excitement are really fabz. However fleeting and uncontrollable these emotions may be, I honestly believe I feel them stronger than other people. I know black and white thinking can be bad – everything is all or nothing. However, I have a strong sense of right and wrong and I like that. When applied to myself, it sucks, when applied to outside circumstances, I have a strong opinion and without the grey, I gain passion. Sure, my identity and opinions can change rapidly depending on my surroundings, but I think it means I am more able to empathise with other people sometimes as I really do absorb their views so whole heartedly. My impulsivity around things like drugs and alcohol and shopping etc. make me more fun to be around sometimes. Sure, the dissociation, negative self-beliefs, parasuicidal behaviours, impulsivity when alone etc. suck, but there are positive things about the way I am now. And that’s the thing – this is who I am. I don’t know if I want to be anyone else. I’m taking action, yet I see the positives and don’t know if I’m ready for change.

Still, being unable to work and being unable to do the things I want to do and struggling every fucking day might make this all worth it. I just don’t like knowing what’ll be left of me when this is all done. Will I even be me? I hate not knowing.

But finally, some other great news – my uni have decided to waive my fees and make me a part-time student so I can access all the support I need. This makes me supez happy. It’s also scary as it means I’ll actually have to finish my degree this year, but I have a whole year to do a dissertation so hopefully it’ll be ok. I’m scared, but at least I’m able to access any support I need. Fingers crossed. Once my freedom pass shows up, I’ll be back at uni to try sort it all out.

So goods and bads and lots in between. This is some sort of update I guess. I hope you’re all well.

Juno having a nap – home again :)

angry.

I guess this could be a trigger. Sorry.

So last night I called the HTT crisis line because I was so worked up and distressed and I’d just got off the phone to the Ex and I felt out of control and fast and mean and basically the whole world sucked and I blamed treatment.

I literally have nothing normal left in my life anymore. Since starting treatment over a year ago I’ve only lost things. I’ve lost thing after thing till now I’ve got nothing nice left. The only thing I’ve gained is a bunch of professionals that are paid to pretend to care about me, but make it pretty fucking clear they don’t give a fuck. I didn’t feel safe.

I told them I never wanted anyone to come to my house again. The guy I was speaking to is actually nice and he got worried. I told him I’d lost everything and that having people barely conceal their contempt for me only hurt me more and I didn’t want any part of it ever again. I told him I wanted out of it all and I didn’t feel safe and they weren’t helping and everything in my life has just be getting worse and worse. This went on for a little while and he eventually agreed to the HTT calling me instead of visiting this morning and told me he cared and was worried and would listen and I should call him back if I needed to.

I didn’t call back. Instead I self harmed. It was quite severe, but I managed it with my now expert injury first aid and eventually felt better enough to fall asleep at about 4am.

I then get woken up by the HTT knocking on my door, and not just them, but also my new key worker from CDAT. I got so angry and told them over and over I didn’t want them there and had been told they wouldn’t come and they refused to leave because I had to talk to the CDAT woman and I hate her and I hate them and they lied and I wasn’t dressed and I hate every single part of my mental health treatment.

After they left, I called the HTT and asked them never to come back again and I didn’t want anymore treatment from them. They lied to me and didn’t care and they make me hurt more. Apparently they’re going to call me this afternoon, but I don’t even think they will seeing as they are full of lies and don’t give a shit. They talked about sectioning me if I didn’t comply with them, but I can’t even see how they have the power to do that. You need like two psychiatrists to section someone, and it’s not like any of them talk to each other. Like this morning I was told they’d come back this evening, then on the phone I was told they’d come back tomorrow morning. None of them have any fucking clue what the plan for my treatment is. I doubt they could get two psychiatrists in the same fucking room.

I then called the CMHT to asked to be discharged from them. The Psychiatrist is on leave so I can’t leave them till next week.

Following that, I called the Psychologist and left a message for him to call back. He didn’t, so I left a subsequent message saying I never wanted to see him again. He eventually called back and said he “hopes I turn up and he won’t discharge me yet” and said he’ll leave it in my hands to contact him if I don’t go. I’m most angry with him because he pretends better than everyone else. And if he didn’t tell me the Ex was a cunt, I’d probably still have someone to love me. If he hadn’t told me it was ok to take time out of uni, I’d probably have a fucking degree. If he hadn’t told me I needed further help, none of the other fucking teams would be involved. And he called my fucking parents. How am I supposed to trust him?

I can’t get in touch with IMPART because I didn’t save their number and I’ve swapped phones. Imma try get their number from someone else, but I don’t know who yet. I fully intend to leave their services as well.

CDAT can go spin to be honest. I told her as much, but she made an appointment for me anyway. I’m not going to go. She said if I don’t go, she’ll call, but it’s not like I have to reply. Calls from mental health treatment places always come up as private numbers so its pretty easy to know which ones to ignore.

I then called uni to ask to formally drop out, but I have to talk to my personal tutor before I can do that and he’s not in so I emailed.

I want to be out of treatment now. Out for good. All I’ve got from treatment is a worse life. All I had left was my fucking degree and that’s gone now so fuck it. If I’d never started treatment, I probably could have aced a dissertation by now and be finished and not care that all my friends hate me and my family think I’m disgusting because I’d be pretty and small and that would be enough and I’d have a boy and future. Instead, I’ve complied with everything asked of me and have essentially lost everything. I make the Fam cry, the Brother always chooses others over me when I really need him, my friends all think I’m rubbish and weird, the Ex treats me rubbish and I hurt him and the DVIP people keep calling me to tell me how shit he is and he calls me to tell me how shit they are and now I’ve lost uni. The one fucking normal thing I had left.

So fuck them all. I did as I was told and tried and now I’m angry and alone and have horrendous withdrawal symptoms. I keep having panic attacks and can’t focus or sleep and get tremors all over and I fucking hate every part of ever having entered treatment. So I no longer have an eating disorder? It’s not like I have anything else.

It hurts me more to be surrounded by people who pretend they care then it does to be alone. It’s better to not have it rubbed in your face that the most important thing you do is provided by people who think you’re worthless. Fuck them all. Seriously.

phone and rubbish times and lots and lots of babbling about geeky rubbish.

Saturday 3rd November 2012

I caved and joined the masses of people with iPhones. I was gonna get a GS3, but then once the iPad happened, the inevitable just followed. I’ve been an android girl since the first Samsung Galaxy, a Samsung girl for years before that. It’s weird when you change phone brands. It’s less comfy, but the prospect of everything just syncing nicely and hooking up to my iTunes made me too much sense. Most of the Internet think the SG3 is better because its more customisable, with a bigger screen and a better battery life. To be fair, the battery life thing is a big pro, but I don’t want to watch anything on a tiny screen anyway – I have a T.V., a desktop, a laptop and an iPad for that. Plus the iPhone 5 is just prettier anyway. The memory thing is a big pro for android phones more generally (SD card options), but I never filled my S2, but with cloud technology, my iPad and the ease of backing up onto iTunes on my laptop, it doesn’t really matter. Plus I have a 160GB iPod classic so music space is no issue for me. I think the GS3 is kinda butterz personally, but it’s all opinion I guess. Plus I like the smaller screen because its easier to use, and the display is better. Widgets and GO! Themes etc. are pretty much useless, clunky and annoying on android, so I never went for the customisable thing really. That’s what happens when you make apps to match multiple phone brands. I also watched a lot of YouTube videos showing how the iPhone is actually faster, regardless of what tech specs suggest. And it fairs better in the drop test. I am a geek about things like this. A massive geek.

So I guess this is me welcoming the apple era of my life. Maybe just a year or so.

I realise I’m probably boring you with this post, but suck it because I am.

See, I’m close to perfecting myself with gadgets, which seems silly, but it’s how I feel anyway. With my 4th generation iPad, iPhone 5, DSLR camera, iPod classic and normal digital camera, I’m only my slim PS3 and new telly (Christmas list init), 3DS and digital Polaroid camera away from being content in my gadget world. With my brother’s Sainsburys discount reaching 20% around Christmas, this will all happen soon I hope. With new glasses, great eyeshadow and aces hair, I feel like I might reach some sort of amazing level of being brilliant. I probably won’t though. Some other amazing thing will turn up that I’ll need to be amazing or I’ll realise it didn’t make me amazing. Goes either way really.

I’m making this out to be a jolly post, but today was dramatastic. My S2 broke yesterday, but my upgrade date was the 5th, so O2 said they’d put it on the system that I could get an upgrade now. They didn’t. I almost signed up to orange because they have quite good deals, but for no reason I think that orange is a nerdy network. Then, thinking my upgrade date had been changed, I called Carphone Warehouse to order an iPhone on O2 as they’re deals are cheaper and I should have been able to upgrade through them and then have a phone within 10 days rather than 28. O2 hadn’t sorted it though, so I called them again and after a few hours on hold, was told the department had closed and I had to wait till this morning. I woke up at 8am today to call them as I knew there was one white 16GB iPhone within ten miles from my house in a Carphone Warehouse. The woman said that Carphone Warehouse could call O2 to get the upgrade clearance. I was there by 9am to get this phone, but the store manager was like “there’s nothing we can do for a few days.” Determined not to lose out on a phone for a month or something, I called O2 again and they did actually upgrade the system that they’d said they’d upgraded the night before and actually could get the phone. The account is in the Dad’s name though, so he had to be there. This process took over an hour and yes I did win in the end, but the Pa sacrificed his running club run because it took so long. It didn’t feel like a win. It felt like a loss because it was at the expense of someone else’s happiness. I felt sad and guilty and cried a little.

The next layer of drama to add to the day was sorting out my application for the London only “you’re so mental you need to travel for free” pass. I’m too poor for stamps right now (especially because I’m changing banks and can’t go into my overdraft), so I basically decided to walk my dog to this business park place I had to post it to so I could post it myself. This took an hour, considering all the time I spent looking for a letter box on top of walking. There was no letter box, but there was an annoying post box right next to it which I couldn’t put the bloody thing in without a stamp.

One of the joys of walking to Walthamstow is the absolute abundance of shit phone shops selling badly made phone covers that are probably the least ethical thing in the world. I’ve already ordered some hilarious iPhone covers on amazon, but I don’t know when they’ll show up and I managed to haggle a deal of £2.50 for a cover and screen protector. I also got to go to the 99p Store and get three cans of Diet Coke for 99p. Apart from that, the mission was useless. And by the end of it, it started getting dark and I started freaking out.

PTSD is a bitch. I literally cannot hack the dark when I’m outside. I’m mostly ok indoors, as long as I have my fairy lights or lamp for sleeping, but outside darkness is the worse. You are not safe in the dark. No one cares about you in the dark. You’re alone and vulnerable. Then came the panic and the flashbacks and the really shit time going as fast as I can and calling the Pa to come and rescue me in his car so I would be safe again. It was bloody horrible.

Still, at least I have an iPhone, and the Ma used her stamps and told me I was silly for not asking, then posted it for me, and I have a really cheap phone cover. It’s not hilarious and covered in horrible plastic jewels, but don’t worry – that’s on it’s way.

So now all I have to do is fix myself into a normal looking human being. I look proper rough today. I’m tired and ill and feel skanky and stressed, but some friends have just come back from India so I should really go pub. I’ll have to scam drinks off people and maybe get my parents to lend me some money, but that could work out I guess. We’ll see. It’s just till I can actually use my overdraft again, and that’ll be soon. Plus like, in a week or something, my ESA will come through.

waiting group.

So today I had my first session in “Coping Skills Group”. To be fair, it wasn’t much of a ‘group’ seeing as it was only me… It’s in a different psychiatric hospital to where my EDU is as there isn’t an eating disorder service in my local NHS foundation trust, but it is similar as its where all the inpatient units are for the area and stuff. The biggest difference is that it’s huge, in an area you can’t wait to leave and seriously confusing. The buildings have different names to the signs, it’s next door to a standard hospital so the site is extra confusing and there’s no one to help you.

I was super late, but once I’d finally found the IMPART building, there wasn’t even a receptionist. There was a reception, but no one in it. I had no idea where I was going and the hallways were massive and echoey and empty and I had no idea where I was going. I started asking the few random people I bumped into what to do, but no one knew. I eventually found someone willing to direct me to the psychological services reception and waiting area and a really kind woman walked me for about 10 minutes to the room I was meant to be in. That’s why there was no one else there. No one could find it. There were lots of messages and calls during the meeting with people saying they’d left with no idea where to go. Apparently the main receptionist at the hospital and the IMPART receptionist were all made redundant in the last round of cuts, which is actually a bit of an issue for a hospital that big. The group facilitator is going to try iron out these issues though so hopefully that’ll mean next week there’ll be a few more people there.

It was quite cute though. They had biscuits and Quality Streets and tea and herbal tea and coffee and lemonade and milk and hot chocolate and Fanta. They gave me a list of rules which included “if you need to take a break, feel free to just go outside for a few minutes. One of the facilitators will check in with you to make sure you’re ok” which I thought was sweet.

Regardless of who was there, it’s actually really impacted upon me. We basically went over what the diagnosis really means and how I felt about it when I was first told about it and how my feelings have changed over time and what I knew about the disorder in general. It was a bit weird because it was just me, but they asked me a lot of questions and things and I think maybe it was useful. I duno though.

Basically, they went through a few of the symptoms with me and explained them in a non-personal, but more explicit way than I’ve been told before. They basically laid out how a borderline mind processes emotions and think, then compared that to the way non-borderline people think. It finally really clicked. It was like they were writing out my entire brain on a white board, with charts and graphs. Impulsivity, negative ways of regulating emotions, constantly changing obsessions with people and ideas etc. It was all there. It was exactly me.

At first I found it kinda comforting. It was comforting to know that I really couldn’t have made this whole thing up. This wasn’t lies. It helped me put together stuff I’d never been able to understand or articulate. It was bizarre. I felt like I was being understood.

Then I started to freak out. I’ve been kinda hanging on to the hope that it wasn’t true. That I had made it up and I wouldn’t be so wrong. I know this isn’t true, but the label of ‘personality disorder’ makes me think I’m broken. Broken so far beyond how I’ve felt before. If I’m not borderline, then I’m just a bad person and being bad is better than being broken. Being bad doesn’t need to be fixed. Broken is something that just doesn’t work at all. I hate it. I know it doesn’t change things really, I just hadn’t taken in the reality of it all until today. I just hate it. I burst into tears whilst walking my pup. It was horrible. I’ve feel so fucking hopeless. I don’t want to be this way. It’s like I’ve suddenly seen just how different my thought processes and emotions are from what they should be and it hurts me. It’s actually physically painful inside my bones and organs.

So now I sit and wait and try to just ride it out. I’ve got therapy tomorrow so maybe that’ll help. Chain smoking and watching way too much Heroes and hoping that tonight I might be able to sleep. Again. Except I feel like dirt and everyone and everything makes me hurt. I don’t like this whole new treatment thing. I’m done with my EDU and I know that, but I don’t want it to change. I don’t want a new therapist and I know tomorrow I’ll have to talk about winding therapy down in preparation for change. It took me ages to like my therapist. Ages and ages. Most people in the world are kinda idiots. I know that’s a stupid way to look at people, but I think it’s true. The Psychologist isn’t an idiot. He’s really nice and really smart and he really tries to look out for me and he gets my humour and he’s not an idiot. He’s not a simp, he’s not at all new age-y, he’s doesn’t go on and on about all that “aww it’s so hard. Compassion, love blah blah blah etc.”

Except now I have to meet someone else and hope they’re not an idiot. The problem is that they probably will be. I don’t want to get to know someone new. I like who I have. Not that I’d ever tell him that obvs.

I feel so disgusting. I’m scared and lonely. I’m not sure I’m ready for all this. :(

Also, I’m going to add this. It might seem silly, but actually a lot of people have asked me this, or assumed it. Borderline personality disorder isn’t the border between a normal and disordered personality. It got the name a long time ago. Apparently it comes from the idea that BPD was thought of as the borderline between psychosis and neurosis. We know better now and it’s thought of as its own, distinct mental health problem. It’s not borderline anything. In fact, there is a movement at the moment to rename it as ’emotional and unstable personality disorder’ (in the U.K.) or ’emotional dysregulation disorder’ or something (in the U.S.). Just to clear that up for anyone who doesn’t know.

love and other things.

02/10/12 – After Therapy

So I hardly blog at the moment. I don’t really read any either. It’s not because I have better things to do. It’s mostly because I’m finding myself pretty much permanently doing not very much and just trying to get by. The therapist told me today that I wasn’t doing badly. I even made him promise and everything. Getting by is actually not that easy. It’s all about keeping my thoughts occupied with as little thought as possible. It’s not always optimum productivity or anything, but I can keep myself stable enough with varying levels of destructive activities and not one of them is starvation. I spend too much money, take too many drugs, distract myself with confusing relationships with confusing people, drink more than I should, self-injure and have prescription drug abuse problems, so productivity is basically out of the question. It’s ok though because as long as I keep doing what I’m doing, I never spend too long actively suicidal. Friends help a lot too. A lot a lot. I have a lot of fun when I’m able to get out of my little, angry world and just have a silly time. Friends are really good. They have lots of patience with me.

The thing is, my life is pretty static right now. I’m not making progress. I’m not working on anything. I’m in treatment limbo. I cannot stand being in my own brain so I do whatever I can to blast myself out of it. I spend a lot of time in a bit of a daze, not really knowing what’s going on. I’m thinking with surprising clarity for me right now. Probably won’t last the entirety of this post though considering my current situation. Ah wells. It just means I don’t have progress to report on and I don’t like it. I’m not moving forward. I’m basically good at eating now. I can eat whatever I like, whenever I like, with no real drama. Sometimes it’s more difficult than other times and I still get the occasional eating disorder thought, but I weigh myself once a month or so, don’t count calories, sometimes eat chip sandwiches, always get dessert and use a whole load of real life fatty foods in my baking. It’s basically normal eating. That part of me seems pretty fixed at the moment. The therapist thinks I’ve traded an eating disorder for drug and alcohol misuse which is kinda sad, but at least I feel like I’m not constantly worried about food. I duno. I just really don’t like having time to think and right now, I don’t really have healthy ways of avoiding it.

Apparently when I finally get seen by IMPART, I’ll be treated in three areas – parasuicial behaviour; behaviours which negatively impact upon therapeutic relationships (like leaving halfway through therapy, not being able to look at anyone in any of my treatment teams in the eyes); and raising my quality of life (which involves fixing how I view my relationships, keeping me more in my own head and in the present, being less obsessive, stop having panic attacks blah blah blah). The therapist thinks it’ll all start to get better if I start to like myself more or some rubbish. Actually feeling like you have some worth and can achieve some sort of aim or something. We talked a lot about aims today, but I’d never really thought about it before. Especially aims in relationships. I don’t really know what that even means. He asked a lot about if what I’d like from a friend, from my fam and from a boy. I don’t think of people that way though. I don’t think of them in terms of what nice things they do and say. I think about how to hide myself and make it so that if they go, I don’t lose face. Even if it reall hurts. I don’t like to be the social loser. Relationships with friends and boys are built upon the primary idea of protecting myself from the shame of having people hate me or decide to go, so that’s my primary aim. I honestly don’t know how else to relate to people. It’s weird to think about. Therapy is weird. Once I’m satisfied that someone actually likes me, it becomes a different game. It becomes a game of proving your worth as a friend or girl or whatever. You have to give just the right amount, but not too much, whilst not care too much that you become vulnerablee at the same time. It’s complicated. People are complicated.

Anyway, I’m still waiting to hear from IMPART. I don’t even know if they know I exist. I had serious problems with my referral to my EDU and the CMHT. The Psychologist is gonna try organise some sort of big meeting with me, him, some people from IMPART and people from the CMHT to try figure out how my care should be handled from here on out. The idea of that terrifies me. I still think they won’t believe me and that there’s nothing wrong with me because I’m fine. The Psychologist really doesn’t think that’s true, but I do. I duno. I really like the Psychologist today because he’s taking extra effort to make sure I don’t “fall through the cracks”, which I know happens to a lot of NHS mental health patients. I love him a little bit.

I was going to focus a little bit on love in my post today because I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently. I don’t know if I can phrase it right.

(then the internet broke and then I got distracted and blah blah so now it’s now)

I heard from IMPART yesterday, so I guess I take some of that back. They do know I exist. I have a two-hour assessment with them in eleven days and I’m terrified. I’ve put a lot of hope onto this treatment and I might not even get it. I spoke to them for ages on the phone about what they offer. Apparently they usually only take on high risk, “red zone” patients (those at real risk of suicide, self-injury, substance misuse and abuse) and the nice lady (called Siobhan) looked over my referral and said I look like I fit that category. We then talked a bit about the types of treatment they offer and it sounded really great. Generally, for people with my sort of history, they offer individual, weekly CBT based therapy, which links into a weekly DBT group. They also have loads of other groups depending on individual needs. Plus if needed, you are able to contact your therapist out of standard hours in order to help put therapy theory into practice. They don’t do too much work into past events, mostly concentrating on how to manage problems now. That sounds really good for me. But they might not even take me on so obviously it’s not all good.

I had a really bad day today. A little bit because I’m scared of IMPART, a little bit because there’s an absolutely terrifying day next week as well. A little bit I think because I’ve stayed sober since I woke up this morning. A little bit because I only slept three hours last night. Today has been a bad day. Wave upon wave of literally unbearable loneliness, guilt and shame. A lot of shame. I’m on self destruct today. Lots of moody walking, sitting on curbs, starring over bridges and thinking about how much I literally cannot cope with how I feel. And tears. I’ve been an unbearable mess. I’ve also made a lot of lists of what exactly all my problems are and realised I’m stumped by every single one. And as with all these kinds of lists, they end with “no one will ever see me and I’ll be alone forever and no one will glue up the cracks I spill all over the place with so I’ll always just be losing more and more.” So now, after a bit of a rant, I feel like finishing my post. It’ll probably be markedly more depressing than it would have been if I’d finished it before the internet broke.

I don’t know if I can phrase all my thinking about love. I don’t only mean romantic, couple love, but all interpersonal love. I love a lot. I’m in love with all of my friends and the fam and my pup and a million other things. Not just loving them a little bit, but in active-mind-never-stopping-over-idealising love with so many people. I fall in love with ideas of people all the time, then I fall in love with them because I’m in love with the ideas. Then that person gets it wrong and I can’t be near them and they have to leave forever. Then they do something nice and I’m all ideas all over again.  The thing is, people always fail because what I need from other people is totally ridiculous.

I don’t feel comfortable if I’ve not got someone to call. If everyone I know is working or something, I start to get really anxious and I really need someone to talk to. The longer it goes on, the more overwhelming it gets. My skin starts crawling because I’m just so uncomfortable. Obviously, no one can be there all the time, but I really need to have people who are there else I start to freak out. This is an entirely unrealistic way to view other people. I can’t expect people to be there for me all the time, yet I can get really angry if someone isn’t there when I need them.

I love with every bit of me. I really do. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how much I love someone. Like the Brother or Samani or the pup. It’s physical and raw. I expect people to have the same need that I do to always be there. I always have to prove how much I love people else they’ll go away, but no one needs me the way I need them, so it’s not like I’m giving more than I’m getting. I need to call people in the middle of the night. I need to turn up at people’s houses sometimes just because I ache for that human contact. It feels like I’m nothing at all unless there’s someone to see. I need attention else I feel empty and non-existent. I need reassurance else I feel worthless. But because I’m so worthless, I’m always hiding behind concepts and ideas, so I can’t ever get that reassurance or attention because it’s not really me earning it  because there is no me.

See, it gets kinda complicated to phrase.

I just wish sometimes I didn’t love at all. That I didn’t obsess. That I didn’t spend time trying to work out how to get someone to realise I need them to not go to work today. That I didn’t spend nights awake dying to call someone just to know that they’re there and that they care. That I could just believe that they liked me and maybe even love me a little too. I wish so much that I felt like I had the same thoughts about people around me that other people seem to have. It’s horrible.

I’m tired of being hurt and let down because I need more than the vast majority of people have the time to give. I get angry at people all the time because they don’t understand how much I need and I’m fed up of being angry. I’m fed up of disappointment. I’m fed up of effort. Basically, I’m fed up of other people. People are so difficult.

But the thing I want the most is for someone to finally understand what it is I need from other people and actually see me and understand that I’m burning and make it better. I don’t think that’ll ever happen because I don’t even think it’s possible. I put so much stock into love and what I might earn back, but I can never earn enough. I do things I hate in order to be loved and it never works. Then I just hate myself more.

I know this is miserable, but I’ll probably get over it soon and be all happy to love again. I’m just sad because I realised I backed myself into a corner because everything I do to get someone to understand and really help is based on concepts which mean that no one will ever see me. I can’t win, yet I keep idealising everyone, thinking that maybe they finally get it. Then I’m hurt because they don’t, but of course they don’t because I’m hiding and I don’t even really understand. So then I create more, but none of its me and I’ve only just got more hidden in the process. It just can’t work. No one I know or love can ever give me whatever it is I’m burning for. Not even the Fam. It sucks.

Maybe the Psychologist is right. Maybe I do just need to learn how to like myself a little bit more.

“i look into your eyes… you don’t know who i am.”

This post has another stupid lyric as a title. But I cannot get this song out of my ears and it’s almost appropriate so screw originality.

I’ve had a weird few days. Too many substances going up my nose, too many alcohols, too much into my lungs, too many people, all a big mess. It’s all a little manic right now. But that obviously comes at a cost. Today is a low day. The light of day creates a lot of low days. Today, I woke up crawling with shame and disgust all over me like a rash. I scrubbed so much to make me feel fresh, but raw skin from too much exfoliation doesn’t tackle the dirt on the inside. I want to claw it out of me because I can genuinely feel it. No point though because you can’t find a metaphorical feeling. I hate my brain sometimes. Quite often actually.

I realise a lot of the people around me have no real idea of what my mind is doing the majority of the time. It’s like there are two layers of person. On the outside, I try to act the same way that other people do. I try to cover up the things going on inside. I’m always trying to style out the ways I’m feeling. I just try to imitate the correct way to act and feel, whilst trying really hard to cover up what I feel. It tends to mean that quite a lot, I’m really busy trying to convince the world that I’m the complete opposite of what I am. I get so lost because it’s like no one knows me at all. No one knows anything really. I don’t either.

I had a really hard therapy the other day. I tried to be honest to him. I fucked up a bit because sometimes, the easiest way to be honest is to lie because it explains your feelings better. I try so hard no to lie, but sometimes it feels like truth because it’s completely how I feel. Anyway, the lies aren’t all that important. That’s more of a side note. I was talking to him about how I have to not care about things. I do care about them, but I have to pretend I don’t. I’m not allowed to give a fuck about anyone or anything. Like with people – I have to actively pretend that I adamantly don’t care about them or their opinions of me and I think they’re a bit of a dick so I can’t be bothered. That is hardly ever true though. I just tend to think that they hate me and it hurts me that they do and thoughts about it can be so consuming. No one can know I care though, so I tell everyone I can’t be fucked. Chances are, this shoots me in the foot because it’ll get back to the person I think hates me, making them more likely to hate me. It’s a vicious circle. It takes someone really being outrageously nice to me for me to start to actually, obviously care about them. Then I’m the most obviously in love person ever. I’m a little bit in love with basically all my friends. Unless they’ve upset me and I’m ignoring them because I hate them because they’ve done something which makes me think they’re laughing at me or hate me or know something I want hidden.

It’s not just with people though. It’s with everything. Sometimes I let slip an idea or opinion or fact that I’m not sure can be backed up by the people around me. I then freak out because I got it all wrong, then try back track and get myself on solid ground again. I like to make sure people like me, so I’m good at mimicking beliefs and interests. I learnt a long time ago that it’s not ok to like certain things. The problem is, people like all different things. Some people like baking, but others think it’s really boring and pointless. All this means is that you have to then be great at baking. Nothing short of brilliant is enough. You also have to hate it with a passion. Bad example, but you get what I mean. Sometimes parts get all muddled then you let slip to the wrong person that you hold this belief and they think you’re then too trivial/too serious/lame/annoying/a joke/whatever. It’s all a game of getting people on side. I fail at it more than I win. The more you know someone, the easier it gets to mimic the right responses to get the right outcomes. You can even disagree sometimes if you know someone well enough and know you have the right argument to back yourself up in that situation in a way they’ll find acceptable. It’s exhausting

All this leaves you with though is a complete lack of identity. No one knows what I like, what I care about, what I think. A lot of the time I don’t either. What I can’t work out though is why I’m not allowed to care about anything. The Psychologist asked me why and all I responded with was “because then everyone will think I’m a loser and laugh at me.” I’ve lost out on some really good things because I was so convinced that people would think I was a loser if I let anyone know I cared about it, so I just had to pretend that I really have no emotional attachment to anything. I hate it. I hate it because I have to be silently obsessed with the things that take up my entire brain. I have to watch myself lose out on what I want so that I’m not vulnerable to the ridicule I’d open myself up for if I care. So I pretend.

It’s old news that I’m pretty convinced I’m entirely pretend though. I just don’t know what the right emotional responses are, so I have a default act of not giving a fuck about anything. I have no idea why I believe this, but I do. I don’t know why anything that I actually think is such a fucking useless joke, I have to hide it. I may overshare about my life, but I hide myself.

I was so fucking gutted when I actually worked out that this is something I do. I’d never thought about it before, I just did it. Instinct. It’s not conscious. And it sucks. I just so badly don’t want to be laughed at for getting my thoughts and feelings wrong. I don’t want to be a joke.

What I do want though is to be looked after. I have to be as perfect as possible for every single person so that eventually, someone will find me and they’ll look after me right and I won’t feel like my insides are burning anymore and I won’t feel so empty. I don’t know why I need it. I just need something to fill this gap and all I can think that could be is other people. No one does fill the gap though. I don’t know what more I need. I just need to be validated as something good. I sometimes catch glimpses of it, but there isn’t anyone that makes me feel anything but dirt in the long-term. Obviously I’m failing miserably at being perfect for every single person. Perfect daughter, perfect friend, perfect date, perfect whatever. If I was better, then everyone would like me more and then someone would be able to give me what ever it is I desperately need. There’s something I need, I just don’t know what it is.

So instead, I wonder why I always end up feeling horrible and alone. Everything I do to try to make it better only ends up hurting me in the long run. I have to do something to fill whatever it is that I cannot handle, so in my efforts to work it all out, I fail miserably at constructing the right sort of person and engage in physically and psychologically self-damaging acts to feel better until someone finally sees me and understands. It doesn’t help that I tend to get obsessed with the worst people. I wish just once it could be a good one. I wish someone was happy with just me so that I didn’t have to prentend. Just me doesn’t exist though. All I have is the constructions.

I feel disgusting. Passing out to handle the lows you’ll stoop to in order to just be liked and cared is probably a sign you shouldn’t do it anymore. I do it anyway though. Then hate myself. At least I’ve successfully created the idea I want to portray. After all, I’m nothing but concepts and images of what I think might be what other people want. Maybe one day, the ideas will be enough and someone will at least look after the constructed me enough to keep me safe. I honestly don’t know what’s inside so I guess that’s the only option.

Why am I not allow to care about anything? Why do I have to hide anything that matters? Why will I do almost anything in order to try get proof I’m worth anything? None of this is me, but I have no idea who I am. All I know about me is that I’m a 23-year-old woman living the life of a 16-year-old, taking sick leave from university, on benefits, no real prospects, nowhere to fit in, nothing to go on really. I’m seriously beginning to doubt there’ll ever be a place for me. It’s not like there’s anything about me that’d make someone want to stay long enough to mean I don’t have to look anymore.

God this is all so cryptic. Sorry. It’s just a really bad day.

My insides crawl.

stability. and generally overthinking myself. standard.

Tonight is an insomnia post. It’s been getting worse recently. I think its because I’ll actually be seeing my team again this week and in reality, since the last time I had a proper check in, I’ve kinda allowed my life to turn fall into a more dysfunctional routine. It started at Easter and has been slowly, but surely getting worse. Before that, I was doing well actually. I was actively chuffed about how far I’d got and how much my life had improved. I am no longer chuffed. Mostly, I’m ambiguous. I don’t exactly want to go back to restricting or anything, but I’m not sure I’ve wound up anywhere better off right now. I feel less stable and less secure.

The stability of starvation is actually spiralling out of control, but it feels stable. Days come and go and they’re always the same –

Wake up early, cold, but sweating. Panicking and maybe cry because for a second, you really think you ate that muffin. Check your bones are still there. Bathroom. Strip naked and weigh yourself (jumping off and on to make sure the scale isn’t lying). Exercise as long as you can stand till you feel sick and everything hurts. Weigh yourself. Shower and get dressed (whilst worrying if the toothpaste and mouthwash should add to your calorie total). Try and fail to distract yourself from food until it’s time to eat (unless you’ve managed to exercise long enough to go past the time you usually eat. In that case, you get a gold star and feel powerful). Have planned meal (always starting by, gathering the right utensils and crockery then weighing and measuring the right amount of food. Finally, hiding away to eat. Each bite is chewed the right number of time. Smoking as much as possibly from preparing meal till after you’ve eaten. I’d always finish everything. If I was counting that caloire, I was sure as hell going to eat it). Try and fail to distract yourself from food until it’s time to eat (so end up contemplating the pros and cons of various salad dressings and whether or not you’ve done enough to warrant an extra plum). End up drawn to the kitchen so decide to clean it all. Thow some biscuits and cereal or whatever out (covering it with bleach because it looked too tempting). Go for a walk (it burns more calories and only lazy people stay in all day. You didn’t get dressed for nothing). End up walking around Tesco for hours (picking things up, looking at the nutritional info, wondering if it’s low-calorie enough. No, it’s not. Put it back. Sometimes it’s just comforting to learn the calories of all the different crisps or chocolate or whatever. No reason. It’s just better if you know). Panic so go out for a smoke. Go back in only to buy lettuce, diet coke, a Milky Way and GoodFood magazine.  Go home. Organise your food (to make room for the salad in the kitchen and put your chocolate in your box/shelf/drawer of food you want to eat, but instead will just look at and decide it’s not the day. Yes. It’s hoarding food. I would line my forbidden food up a couple of times a day so it looked neat. I wouldn’t eat it, I just felt better that it was there so I could eat it, if I wanted. I wouldn’t miss out if I made sure I owned it).Have planned snack. Weigh yourself (you’ll weigh more and you know it’ll upset you, but you do it anyway). Get a phone call from a friend (but ignore it because they might want to see you and you’d rather spend time actively not eating). Try and fail to distract yourself from food until it’s time to eat. End up eating a banana (which are forbidden obviously) so cry and exercise and plan what you won’t eat at dinner. Have planned meal. Take more laxatives than can possibly be good for you so you might go in the morning (trust me, if you don’t eat enough, no amount of fibre will make you go. Plus by this point, you’re bodies dependant on them anyway) knowing that if you don’t, there’s no way know how much you really weigh tomorrow (because food weight can add up to like a kilo). Research diets on the internet. Look at food porn. Count the minutes until it’s time for bed. Plan things you’ll eat once you’re small enough. Go to bed hopeful for sleep (when you’re asleep, you can’t eat and you don’t know you’re hungry). Realise you can’t sleep because you’re too hungry. Take your meausurements. Feel sad because all your friends are at the pub, but you’re in bed because there someone may have wanted to share crisps and alcohol is calories. Check your bones stick out enough. Eventually fall asleep whilst daydreaming about what you’ll do and how wonderful everyone will think you are when you’re finally thin (maybe because you got really sick and ended up in hospital unable to eat. This was a recurrent fantasy of mine). Have a nightmare about eating a chocolate muffin. Start over.

You’re smoking and drinking as much 0 calorie caffeine as possible throughout the day. Quite often, you hurt and are exhausted, so you pop3-4 pro plus and a couple of painkillers when necessary. Plus calculating and recalculating calories. Over and over.

Believe me, this is all day, every day with anorexia. Unless you’re stuck in a binge/purge cycle – then it’s this, but worse. Or if you have a special event or date or something – then you eat specially less food and specially exercise more so you can be more empty because more empty makes your specially lovely.

It’s really boring. Honestly. It just happens every day to the extent where you essentially wake up and just wait until you can go to bed again because each day is so boring, but it’s predictable. Nothing changes. It can’t because you’re not ready yet. You’re not thin enough. Once you’re thin, you can have fun because everyone will like you and you’ll exist on nothing and you’ll be fragile and look completely unreal and people will be careful with you because you look like you might break and they’ll all think you’re beautiful and interesting and effortlessly tiny and so much better than them because you can refuse food and it doesn’t bother you and you look like you might blow away and you’ll finally be good enough to make up for everything wrong with you. No matter that you’re actually already there, except you don’t look unreal and delicate, you look scary. But it doesn’t matter what the measurements and weight say, because actually, you carry your weight differently from other people and on you, it still looks fat.

You’ll only improve if you stick to the rules. If you break the rules, you’ll undo all that work, get even fatter than you already are, everyone will think you’re a failure and they’ll all laugh at you and hate you even more, you’ll be ugly and worthless and have no friends and you’ll lose your boyfriend because boys don’t like fat girls. When you break the rules, you quickly realise that it is that bad and all you can do is beat yourself up over and over until the scale tells you you’ve set it right again. You learn that it’s better to stick to the rules and keep it predictable. The alternative is hell.

Everyday, your organs and muscles are being ingested by your body, but in its own, completely broken way, it’s stable. Did you know people with anorexia often have high cholesterol even though they generally severely restrict fats? It’s because human tissue is red, fatty meat thus high in cholesterol and you’re incredibly literally eating it. I guess it’s more of a tenuous, steady decline kind of stable. Ok so it’s not at all stable, but it makes you believe that it is.

I’m probably the most stable I’ve been in ages, but I feel much less so now. Having actual thoughts and emotions and actually doing things is really complicated and hard. Especially as I don’t feel like anything ever happens. I don’t identify with myself at all. I tried to think about if I’m doing alright at the moment and I couldn’t because honestly, I remember events, but I cannot identify how I really felt. I can remember crying, but I don’t feel like I was actually sad because I wasn’t really present and it doesn’t feel like it was actually me. And that could have been an hour earlier. Then I’m was not sad – I was jumping. But was I happy? I don’t know because although know I jumped, it doesn’t feel like it was really me. I watched it happen but I wasn’t there. I don’t know what I think or feel right now for fuck’s sake. It’s really distressing and it’s all the time. I’m so disconnected from myself. I literally have no idea what thoughts and feelings I actually have. I don’t know what’s true. There has got to be facts, I just cannot access them.

Instead I just feel out of control, on edge and like I made up of lies. I live in a brain which is constantly narrating my life or having made up conversations. If I think anything, it’s part of some sort of overarching story my brain is spinning. Because the thoughts have to fit to that particular narration, am I actually thinking it, or am I just pretending I do in order to fit the desired conclusion of the story arch? And this narration never stops. I can’t read or watch or anything because I’m just too busy narrating. I don’t enjoy anything or have and hobbies or passions because I just narrate. Plus if I do, do I actually? Or do I just want to believe I do? Is it just for the benefit of other people, even if they never know or see? Honestly, the only thing that stops it is asking google questions. The monotonous fact-finding. No detail. Repeat over and over.

So I act, except none of the actions feel like me. And none of them feel like they have that much effect on how I’ll feel a couple of minutes later. It’s like living without consequences. Logically I know there are, but emotionally there aren’t any really. Cause and effect gets so disconnected. I can remember having an awful time and it being rubbish, but that has no real effect once that’s not what I’m doing anymore. Same way I can remember having a great, relaxing time, but I’ll still get caught up in freaking out about my entire existence. It can turn in an instant. My insides physically sink and I realise I have nothing and am nothing and all I am is concepts. All this makes me feel so physically hollow. If you don’t even have thoughts, what do you have? Lies can only cover up all the parts that aren’t there.

I look in the mirror, and I don’t identify with my face. It just isn’t what I thought I looked like and I’m always surprised. Quickly followed by “shit. How the fuck do I get up every day and walk around and let people see me with a face like this? Has this always been my face? How have I been existing with this face? It’s a fucking disgrace”. I think it about my body too, but then that has really changed so that’s understandable. And my voice, but quitting smoking has changed that a little too. Sometimes I just notice I’m speaking and stop half way through a sentence, turn around and walk off because it’s hurting me so much to continue to hear a voice so bad that doesn’t sound like mine.

The only thing I know I have is absolute shame of anything I ever do or say in front of other people. Why? Because it’s not me and it’s not how I actually feel and I’m not present. I’m not in control and therefore presenting myself in a way I don’t identify with, thus making me an idiot. And what sucks is that I get lonely when I hermit up, so then I reach out a tiny amount, only to feel like shit again. I just berate myself over and over and over.

So now I feel less stable. In fact, I feel like I’m going crazy. I don’t know which is better.

I think I have identity issues. Now if only one of these many mental health professionals could tell me what the fuck any of this is, I’d probably feel better. Instead, they say “I cannot tell you. Your therapist knows you better. Talk to him. He can answer.” So now I’m absolutely terrified of Tuesday. I haven’t seen the psychologist in two months. How the fuck do I explain this to him? I don’t even know what this is. I wish I had a term to google so I could research how to improve it. But I don’t want to go to therapy.

I duno.

paranoid.

If you ever even mention the word paranoid to mental health professionals, they automatically seem to worry that you’re entering the world of paranoid delusions. I don’t really know where pathological paranoia ends and healthy, normal level paranoia begins, but it can be pretty distressing at any level I think and seeing as I don’t believe the government are watching me through the radio or anything, it gets dismissed as something no one seems to have to worry about.

I think like a lot of people, I get paranoid. Quite often. For me, I think it’s all based on the innate belief that I’m really terrible, so it’s all related to friends and acquaintances. And the problem with paranoia is that it’s kinda untestable, so you can never know if it’s true.

I get really paranoid when I find out two people I introduced to each other talk and hang out without any acknowledgement of my existence. Firstly, it just makes me feel awful. I don’t do anything about it and don’t say anything, but I can’t help the fact that I get incredibly uncomfortable. I like to have some sort of control over what people know about me and the fact that the me I am in one situation might be divulged in another situation makes me feel so unwell. I get really tense and feel sick. Sick seems to be my standard emotion at the moment. I don’t even know if sick is an emotion but I feel it all the time. I like to (incredibly unfairly) have some sort of control over how I’m presented and in these scenarios, I lose it. Thus in a roundabout way, I like to have some level of control over other people’s interactions, which is entirely unfair I know. I don’t act on it because I know it’s wrong and I try to put it behind me and not let it effect my relationships. I won’t pretend it never has any effect, but I really know it’s not acceptable. I get convinced they’re going to talk about me and figure out that I’m not really a coherent person but that I have no real identity and no real personhood. That essentially, there isn’t a me inside and that there isn’t a personality.

I also get really paranoid about the fact that they didn’t go through me for other reasons. I start to feel like they’ve got what they need from me and now don’t want or need me around. That they never really liked me in the first place and now they’re got someone better, I’m not worth it. This is a horrible thought process because I start getting really devastated. People I care about and thought liked me suddenly haven’t got any need for me any more. I’m only worth what I can supply someone with and the links I can help them make. Everyone knows that. Once they’ve got enough, they’ll have no need for me. And eventually I’ll be alone because no one will have any need for me. And I honestly can’t think about it logically. I know that people will read this and say “that’s not true you know” but to me, the logic and evidence all points to the fact that it is. I do look for evidence that it isn’t the case, and only come up against the evidence that I’m not worth the effort and will be ditched at some point once anything I can offer has been exhausted. I offer different people different amounts, so it takes some people longer than others to get through it, but the outcome will be the same in the end. It always is. I become redundant.

It’s a kinda common fact that, more often than not, people bond over their common links, which in these situations do include knowing me. Laughing about me, bitching, gossiping, focusing on everything bad about me and deciding they really just hate me seems like the logical outcome. I become the joke, the annoying one, the ugly one, the needy one. Whatever one I become, it can’t possibly be good. There isn’t really enough good for anyone else to notice. I fully believe that by putting two people together, all their negative and entirely justified opinions of me will be verified as acceptable, relieving them of any guilt that might have in believing their negative, hurtful things. They’ll learn that it’s ok to hate me because other people do too. And thus not only will I lose friends, I’ll gain people who actively dislike me, rather than just not caring enough.

Recently, I’ve also discovered there’s a party hosted by one of my best friends. I’ve not been told about it. Not only have I not been told, but I’ve also been arranging to see her and was the way she got the contact numbers to invite others. It’s not like she’s forgotten, but for whatever reason, she’s decided I shouldn’t be there. Now I don’t know how to feel. It makes me wonder whether I should be annoyed. I thought she really liked me and all that stupid rubbish so I’m hurt she doesn’t want me. At the same time I struggle to place the blame on her at all. I’m not annoyed. She’s just decided that actually, she’s had enough of me. I’d embarrass her in front of her friends. I would be too much effort. I’d bring the party down. Everyone will have a shit time if I show up. She’s discovered that actually, I’m really awful. I’m not worth her time. All of these things make perfect sense to me.

Now I know I probably shouldn’t be annoyed of so critical of myself – there are probably other reasons because people aren’t mean and I’m not as awful as I think I am. Except the thing is, logically I can’t find any evidence that I’m not awful. I am. In every way. Because all I am is a whole load of lies. It’s not like I can possibly be anything else because there’s nothing else inside. Without lies, I’m predominantly hollow. I don’t consciously do it, but it there’s nothing there, you have to make up something appealing enough so that know one notices you don’t actually have an identity and that even your thoughts and memories don’t feel like your own. I lie to myself in my head with my thoughts. Everything in this post seems like a lie even though I’m trying so hard to be honest. I can’t though, because I don’t have genuine thoughts and feelings, only thoughts and feelings I convince myself I have to appear like the person I want to present. I was never even sick. I made it up and acted it out and even convinced myself of it because I wanted to present that to others. I don’t know why I would though. I haven’t got reasons wanting that outcome. But I don’t have anything but lies so that must be a lie too.

Nothing really happens and nothings really true. I have no facts because I watch my life happen without me and I have no personhood or true thought. I know this can’t be true. There has to be some facts. But this is how I experience the world. So I’m paranoid. Paranoid everyone hates me because I can’t even create something good. That everyone knows and can’t wait to forget me. And I can’t find anything that verifies otherwise. Because other people lie so to not hurt your feelings. It makes any of the words anyone ever says inherently untrustable. Obviously, unless they’re being horrible, it’s all lies. The negative stuff is true, but anything positive anyone says to me is probably a lie. Because they’re all so nice that they wouldn’t want to hurt me. But I already know and it hurts me anyway.

eats report #11.

Been a mammoth amount of time right? I never really do these that much because my diet tends to get stuck in ruts and food isn’t that much of my life. Saying that though, I have been really trying to push myself out of the rut I’ve been in recently, trying lots of new things and getting some more excitement in my diet.

I think this partly works because I’m not actively counting calories. That doesn’t mean I have no idea how much I’m eating because I really do. It also doesn’t mean that calories play no part in my decisions because they do. It just means that without a running total of calories/fat/fibre/salt etc., I’m able to be a little bit more adventurous. I’m not going to bother with a load of catch up or anything because it wouldn’t be applicable to where I am now. Right now, I’m not trying to eat as many calories as possible in ways I don’t find hard and scary, right now I’m really just trying to normalise my eating. It’s a work in progress, but there are serious improvements.

To me, normalizing my eating doesn’t involve always eating new things, or cooking all the time. It’s not about eating really healthy or trying to eat less healthy. It involves thinking something looks or sounds nice, then making the effort to try it if time and money allow. Sometimes, its eating for convenience. Sometimes it’s taking a lot of time and effort to make something really special. I don’t want to be on a meal plan forever and I’d like to wake up some mornings and chose to eat something different from a bowl of cereal. Not every morning, but some mornings. Then I might be more hungry, or less hungry at snack or lunch time because it’s not my usual so it changes from my usual, predictable satiety levels, but that’d be fine because I can eat more or less. It just needs practice, and I have to start at some point. Some foods that I think look and sound really nice are further away from me right now than others, but as per usual, its little steps towards the ultimate goal. Sausage sandwiches might not happen all that soon, but croissants and jam could be a go-er in the not too distant if that makes sense. And don’t worry, sausage sandwiches will happen. Just give me time. And maybe a bad enough hangover.

So in general, a lot of my meals look like this –

Hummus, raw veggies and couscous.

Or this –

Pate, raw veggies and rice

(This is butternut squash pate from Marks & Spencer by the way. It’s actually quite nice. I would recommend I think. It’s more rich than I’d usually go for but I really like squash so can be easily tempted).

Basically, it’s a lot of cold food. Sometimes I just cannot be bothered, so I go to the fridge, pick three veggies I would like to eat raw, put them in a bowl with some left over grains and a bit dollop of hummus or something and it’s done. Simple. Much as it’s really tasty, it’s not exactly normal eating if I’m doing the same thing most days. The lack of protein and fat probably isn’t that good either. I know hummus is both protein and fat, but just on bit of hummus isn’t enough of either for a dinner.

So I decided if I’m going to have a more normal relationship with food, I’m going to have to start actually bothering a little bit again, getting back into foods I used to like and trying new recipes and meals that sound good in the hope that eventually, I can reach a sort of healthy balance for me, which doesn’t involve much conscious thought at all. Not giving it much thought right now isn’t helping me find this balance, but maybe if I give it more now, in the future there’ll be a thought time payoff if that makes sense.

So the first thing to start looking at for me was dinners. I know that this is so not an exciting meal, but this is actually a big step for me. I made bolognese with actual beef. Granted, extra lean beef which probably wasn’t so good, but it’s a start. It was really nice, but I could do better. A problem I have with using meat is that I tend to try to find ways to skip out on adding fat to my meals, so I just didn’t use any oil with this, which is stupid. Pasta is hard for me as well which doesn’t help. I think it’s because you get more calories for less volume than a lot of other carbs. Still, I didn’t measure it, I just used two handfuls. I don’t know if two handfuls is right, but the ex always used to tell me that was the exact right portion. He has really small hands though so maybe mine was still too much. Probably not though. I don’t think half a centimeter can make that much difference. Essentially, I should use oil. I did use a jar sauce though which is also a big step for me. I’m literally terrified of jar sauces because the idea of too much salt scares me. Too much salt leads to water retention which leads to increased weight and puffy joints, so I like to go for low sodium options when I can and that just isn’t processed sauces. I ended up chosing a Tesco Goodness one with hidden vegetables designed for children. Mostly because the portions were smaller and the calories less. Again, not perfect. Jar sauce, real meat and unmeasured pasta all good steps though

Sometimes I read paragraphs like that and think “Gosh. I’m such a crank when it comes to food.” The way I think is still pretty stupid.

Each time I mess up now though, I’m writing it down to try to address it. So this meal ended up with “Normal jar sauce. Add some oil to fry your veggies in next times” aims. Next time I have pasta, I’ll at least scratch one of them off the list. It’s still a massive improvement. I’ve gone from less that half a normal pasta portion, no oil, measured out Quorn mince, fresh tomatoes instead of tinned or jar sauces etc. I’m levelling up slowly, but I haven’t had the final boss fight with pasta yet. I think that might include garlic bread. It is one of my ultimate all time favourite foods and I haven’t had any in so ridiculously long. I think I’d like it too much and eat too much. That’ll be a scary day I think.

At least it looks like normal food right?

Bolognese. With real meat!

I’ve also been trying to eat some other meats as well. Like lamb and chicken. Obvs. I had really nice jerk chicken the other day, but I’ve also recently had some sort of Moroccan-ish lamb leg steaks. I don’t know if it’s acceptable to be in recovery and use a George Forman but I do. I didn’t buy the George Forman, I acquired it as spoils of university life (seriously, who leaves behind something like that?) so I don’t feel bad that I have it. Plus it cooks things super quick and you can get all the char-y outside bits without any hassle. I still feel bad that I use it though because of the fat issue. I won’t lie, it does make meat easier for me to eat, but that’s probably because I have it if that makes sense. If I didn’t have it, just grilling meat would be fine, but seeing as I do, plain old grilling isn’t good enough. Sometimes I feel sorry for vegetarians because grilled meat is actually really tasty. In fact, most meat is tasty. Crap meat, processed meat, expensive cuts, grilled, baked, roasted, fried. Honestly. It’s really nice. I know I still find it too hard to eat meat that often, but I’m trying to because I really have a really low protein diet and I know that. Plus hating on cheese and never having really eaten an egg makes protein even harder to get without meat. So I’m aiming for red meat a couple of times a week for the iron (I’m pretty low on iron, and meat is a way better source than vegetable ones), fish twice, poultry once and two veggie days. Right now, I’m not hitting that target, but I intend to. I personally know I don’t feel that good if I eat lots of meat, but I do feel better if I eat some. So it’s a work in progress, especially because of the oil issue. Who knows, maybe I’ll even eat an egg one day. Stranger things have happened.

I’ve also been trying with my lunches. It’s been far to hot for my usual soup recently, so I’ve been having actual sandwiches! I find sandwiches hard for no reason whatsoever because I’ll eat two slices of bread with topping easy peasy, but put the two slices together and I struggle. There is absolutely no logic in this. I’ve been having some really nice falafel hummus sandwiches, with salad and crisps. I still have difficulties when it comes to actual potato crisps, so it’s mostly Sunbites and vegetable crisps for me. I really like Sunbites though, and vegetable crisps, so I don’t feel like I’m missing out, and I do occasionally have real crisps to make sure I’m able to if I really want them. This is a big step for me. Again, there are issues with added fat though. I find it really hard to even want butter because it’s been so long since I’ve used it really that it doesn’t even occur to me. The other day the Mother used butter with hummus on toast and I actually asked her why because I just didn’t get it. I know hummus and nut butters and things are sufficiently fatty, but I’m ok with them because they seem more nutrient-dense to me. However, butter is still pretty good for you actually. Even fully saturated, real cow butter. In fact, saturated fat is necessary for an actually healthy diet, but my diet is severely lacking it. I should probably eat more butter. I remember I used to really like peanut butter and butter cracker sandwiches (honestly, if you have never tried this, do because it’s lovely. Two cream crackers, one with butter, one with peanut butter, put together like a sandwich. It’s so nice), but I haven’t had anything like that in such a long while. Maybe I should put peanut butter cracker sandwiches on my fear foods list.

Real life, full-blown sandwich!

Quite often I find myself wishing I’d never bothered learning as nutritional information. Regardless of any eating disorder stuff. I mean, I could have just ate less and lost weight and still been really sick, but nutritional information is something that makes it really difficult to let go and enjoy food. Even if your ok with the fact you’re eating it. Because you always know. You can’t unlearn it. My honest advice to anyone and everyone is to never learn anything about calories or fat or carbohydrates or sodium or whatever. If you want a healthier diet, you probably already know all you need to know. Anything else makes food a hell of a lot less nice. And once you know, you can’t undo it and just enjoy things.

Anyway, I’ve also been improving my lunches by actually fully following recipes and not working out the nutritional information for them. I’ve made some serious hummus recently. Generally, if I’m gonna make it, it’s a tin of chickpeas, couple of cloves of garlic, maybe two teaspoons maximum of tahini if I’m feeling brave, though sometimes none, some cumin and the chickpea cooking water in a blender. The other day though, I really went for it. I followed Felicity Cloake’s recipe for perfect hummus. It has a whopping six tablespoons of tahini, plus although there’s minimum effort, it takes an absolute age to make due to soaking and cooking dried chickpeas. It’s so tasty though. Plus it makes bare so I’ve got some in the freezer as well. It’ll last me ages and it really is one of the best hummuses (what is the plural of hummus?) I’ve had. Even if I do say so myself. Hummus of Kings. And I have no idea of the exact calories because I didn’t work it out and generally, I don’t use dried chickpeas so I can’t work out how it compares. Which is brilliant for me.

It really is perfect hummus though. Even if it’s in the dark.

I also made walnut butter with honey and cinnamon. I made it before ages ago, but had difficulty with it because it was maybe too tasty and ended up throwing it away. This time I’m going to give it my all. If you’re only used to standard peanut butters, homemade nut butters, and even the shop bought natural ones, are weird. They aren’t as smooth and spreadable and they aren’t as sweet or as salty (though this is sweeter due to the honey). However, homemade is a whole load cheaper than the natural ones in shops, plus you get so much more options. You can add whatever to it really and it tastes good. Like bananas, or chocolate, or spices, or dried fruit, or  anything really. And they are really, really easy. As easy as hummus. All you need is a blender or food processor and you’re away. And this is really great. I recommend to everyone.

Walnut butter on Ryvita om nom.

Breakfast are also getting a look in whilst I’m trying to eat more like a normal person. One thing I’ve recently tried is overnight oats. They’re kinda a standard thing in the healthy food blogger world, but back in the days when I used to stalk those blogs, I’d look at them and think they sounded and looked great, but the idea of yogurt and nut butter and banana and honey etc. was all too much and I wasn’t allowed. I’d occasionally do it with just a bit of milk and mostly water, but oats were for water in my head and that was it. It doesn’t work with water. You kinda have to heat them up if you do that. Otherwise it’s not nice. I actually think oats in water can be nice as well, but only if you pour cold milk over the hot gruel, but that’s another thing entirely. I had overnight oats the other day. Serious ones. With greek yogurt and banana and almond butter. It was so good. I’ve had it a couple of times now and topping it with blueberries and almond butter is my favorite way so far. It’s really refreshing in the heat, and really tasty, and deceptively filling. I actually think this is worth it entirely.

Overnight oats – Actually worth it. Especially in the heat!

Now I know that none of this is entirely normal eating for most people. It’s lots of whole, natural foods which are pretty healthy, homemade with no additives etc. But I am trying those things too. Like potato wedges. I ate potato wedges can you believe? McCain’s no less. And they were so hard to eat, but so worth it because they are really nice and I’m a fool for not eating them. I know it’s really easy to make your own from scratch, but I couldn’t be bothered and the McCain’s ones looked really appealing in the freezer aisle and I just though to myself “fuck it. I like McCain’s” and went with it. I don’t regret it for a second. I still haven’t dared check out the ingredients. For all I know, they’re really not that bad, but I’d ruin it for myself if they are. And you see that guacamole? Tesco made it. And they made the salsa too.

Oven Fooooood!!!!

I also managed a three course meal. I had a mezze platter thing (lots of chorizo and parma ham and hummus and bread and sun-dried tomatoes), followed by roast venison medallions, roasted new potatoes and cabbage, with a chocolate orange ganache torte topped with raspberry and ice-cream. That definitely isn’t the sort of food I usually go for. Processed meat with a whole ton of salt, meat and potatoes, probably cooked using lots more fat than I’d be ok to use myself, full-blown chocolate dessert with ice cream instead of just ice cream alone. All of these things are hard, but it actually wasn’t even that hard when I was out with the fam. We’d been out all day and went to a really tasty pub out in the sticks for Sunday lunch. After I’d had scones with jam and clotted cream for a snack as well. And it wasn’t bad and it didn’t plague me and I didn’t feel horrible. I felt happy because I’d had a nice day and joined in with fam activities (we went to the Royal Gunpowder Mills. Seriously good. Really interesting, really lame, and really fantastic buildings. If my camera hadn’t died I would have had really great pictures. Instead, I got there, got excited at some baby swans then my battery went dead. All I have is pictures of baby swans. They are cute though).

Swans and Swanlets.

So yer, I know my cooking isn’t the most normal. I have so many recipes bookmarked from healthy food blogs I can’t count them. It’ll take an age just to get through the healthy ones, and I have better things to do that troll through the internet looking for recipes. Plus a lot of them include a whole load of ingredients I wouldn’t go near a year ago so I still think it’s progress, even if it’s still a little weird. This is the food I longed for and couldn’t bring myself to eat. I think I’m getting there. Slowly. If I want it, I should endeavour to eat it. I honestly don’t care if it’s weird though. Everyone’s normal is different and I just want to find food I like and be comfortable eating without worrying about it anymore. If that’s lots of healthy looking food, so be it. If it’s mostly chips, that’d probably be ok too. I think I’ll probably eat lots of whole, homemade, healthy looking foods forever, but as long as it’s not hard, I’m ok with that. And as long as I can eat chocolate bars and fish fingers sometimes too.

And I’m adding this picture because I think food like this should be displayed.

:D