There are so many things I want to write about sometimes, but I often wonder how I'm going to phrase it, if there's any point, if anyone will listen, etc. Quite a few things have been going on though, so I feel like even if these posts do go unnoticed, there'll be out there, and my mind can settle a little bit, having written it down.
I can't work out if I'm happy or sad at the moment or just... nothing. My diagnosis finally came through: it's confirmed, I have ADD inattentive-type with possible characteristics of bipolar type 2. My psychiatrist put me on Ritalin. This has not made my mother happy. In explaining that it has made a world of difference to me, and my ability to focus and remain stable, I only received negativity in response. She thinks it's all bullshit. Never mind about the years and years I've spent wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Never mind that every school report from secondary school confirms, proves what I was suspecting, and never mind that two medical professionals have agreed on my diagnosis. I guess my mother has been through so much that any problem is now 'normalised' for her. I'm not allowed to be depressed or ill anymore, I'm not allowed to try to understand what is going on in my own head, otherwise I'm instantly branded as attention-seeking, looking for validation, or 'navel-gazing'. All this has led to constant snapping and arguing, which makes me feel monumentally awful, considering how well I thought we were doing.
It would be easy to say I'm feeling depressed, but the truth is, I'm more frustrated than anything else. I started an internship at the beginning of last week around the same time as starting the pills, and I think I concentrated better and worked harder in those five days than I did the whole of my A level year at school. I was on such a 'high' from how brilliantly my week had gone, and proud, in a way, that I'd gotten through it - and that high was crushed by the supreme lack of support coming from my mum. I got a chill yesterday night, and as a result I'm currently holed up in bed with copious amounts of cough sweets, sudafed, and icy diet coke. It sucks; I want to be well, and I want to be working. Not only am I terrified I'll be too ill to go to my job tomorrow, but I have this uneasy feeling that all of last week was a fluke. That my body just can't handle working from 10am-7pm every day, and every time I try, I'll get ill. No matter how many pills I pop, how many vitamins I take, how well I eat, I'll just crash and burn eventually. This kind of morbid, dead-end thought train is one I'm used to, and I know it's unproductive. I just can't help thinking that's me, my life, my future, and I'm fucked, basically.
Well, on a better note, I've managed to maintain a steady 145 lbs. It feels good to be able to stay in my 'safe region' without much effort and I can definitely see the change in my body since two months ago. I don't know if I have a goal weight. I don't think it would be helpful to make one, because I am too apathetic to aim for anything as concrete as a number right now. I just know that I want to vaguely skinnier by the time uni starts. And that Ritalin appears to have a handy side-effect of eliminating my appetite all day, but that's a whole other kettle of fish.
Monday, 26 August 2013
Thursday, 15 August 2013
My grocery list concerns me
Do you ever have those supermarket shops where everything you pick up seems to be oddly, unintentionally ED-orientated? I just had one of those shops. I met Tina for a late-night coffee (I hadn't seen her in weeks, due to overlapping vacations and lack of time) - it was lovely, and we caught up on everything. Decided to go for a swan around Tesco's - casual trippy 10pm supermarket times, as you do. We walked around all the aisles, plucking things off the shelves as we went. It was more of an excuse to hang out in the warm, more than anything. I barely concentrated on what I picked up, until checkout, when I realised everything I'd selected was either low-calorie, fat-free, or just plain eating disordered. I had picked up those mini cans of tuna, the ones with 54cals per tin (granted, I've been craving those for ages, but I didn't get the normal tins, I got the ones I get when I'm restricting). Also on my grocery list: fat-free strawberry yogurt, bran cereal, rice cakes, hot sauce (the Ocal kind), sugarfree jelly, salted cashews, Thai noodle cup-a-soup (also 54cals), and diet coke.
The thing that concerns me is that I didn't even pay attention to what I was taking off the shelves. It's like I was on autopilot or something. HOW ON EARTH am I going to manage at university, if my sub-conscious default is to select these kinds of foods? I mean, I don't even think I have to compare calories on packaging anymore. I know nutritional labels so well, it's almost an unconscious reflex to pick up the lowest-calorie, lowest-fat products without even having to think about it. This scares me a little bit, because it actually takes more effort and thought to select 'normal' foods that a 'normal' person would eat from a supermarket, than to come out with the most disordered grocery shop I could muster.
Another note on this: I think I'm becoming a food hoarder. Like, not even joking: I buy cans of soup for our cupboard even though there's already like, 8 untouched tins in there. I've got cream of tomato, leek and potato, mushroom, Chinese broth, tinned chopped tomatoes (basically soup), baked beans (in a soup-like can), now these Thai cup-a-soups, on top of my extensive collection of Light Choices vegetable cup-a-soups (which contain enough sodium to kill a small dog). Do I need more soup? -No. Am I on a special soup diet? -No. Am I preparing rations for hibernation? -Hardly. So my compulsive soup-buying behaviour disturbs me. I'm also the same with portioned packets of diet hot chocolate, sweetener sachets from Starbucks, and, recently, yogurt.
Little worried here.
Haven't checked my weight in two days. Probably a good thing, but feels fucking terrifying.
The thing that concerns me is that I didn't even pay attention to what I was taking off the shelves. It's like I was on autopilot or something. HOW ON EARTH am I going to manage at university, if my sub-conscious default is to select these kinds of foods? I mean, I don't even think I have to compare calories on packaging anymore. I know nutritional labels so well, it's almost an unconscious reflex to pick up the lowest-calorie, lowest-fat products without even having to think about it. This scares me a little bit, because it actually takes more effort and thought to select 'normal' foods that a 'normal' person would eat from a supermarket, than to come out with the most disordered grocery shop I could muster.
Another note on this: I think I'm becoming a food hoarder. Like, not even joking: I buy cans of soup for our cupboard even though there's already like, 8 untouched tins in there. I've got cream of tomato, leek and potato, mushroom, Chinese broth, tinned chopped tomatoes (basically soup), baked beans (in a soup-like can), now these Thai cup-a-soups, on top of my extensive collection of Light Choices vegetable cup-a-soups (which contain enough sodium to kill a small dog). Do I need more soup? -No. Am I on a special soup diet? -No. Am I preparing rations for hibernation? -Hardly. So my compulsive soup-buying behaviour disturbs me. I'm also the same with portioned packets of diet hot chocolate, sweetener sachets from Starbucks, and, recently, yogurt.
Little worried here.
Haven't checked my weight in two days. Probably a good thing, but feels fucking terrifying.
Monday, 12 August 2013
This time last year...
I read back on some old posts from this time last year, circa my tonsillectomy. This exact day last year, I weighed exactly the same as I do today. 146 lbs. It's not even depressing, in fact, it was quite a relief that 'at least I hadn't gained'. It brought about a certain comfort, that I was back there again, and therefore, perhaps, could proceed in a similar way to before. Only this time, I plan on keeping the weight off, and I'm not aiming for something ridiculous.
I need to emotionally break myself off from the last few years of my life. I have to stop indulging fantasy-type memories of relationships I had that were TRULY toxic, such as with Charlie and Rebecca. I keep glorifying and romanticising my time with them as if they were the best years of my life, but they really weren't. They were the worst. I was at my most psychologically unwell when I was friends with Rebecca, and she made it worse. We were terrible for each other. Charlie isn't a nice person anymore, and she probably caused me the most damage last year out of everyone. I cannot continue to idolise them and reminisce and wish I were friends with them again. I cannot aspire to be like them anymore, I cannot live in this permanent state of nostalgia which ultimately winds me up depressed, and hating myself with a passion.
It's time to build myself back up again, nurture myself, and live for ME, not for anyone else. If I'm going to be depressed, I want to be depressed about MY stuff. I can't factor them into that depression on top of everything else. They will no longer have an effect on my mind like that, and I will no longer wither at the thought of what 'Rebecca and Charlie are doing without me'. It makes me weak, and I can't afford that, not now. I need to be strong, I need to be fit, and I need to be good to myself (and the people around me who truly care).
After making plans all day to starve myself again, I deleted all I'd written, and started afresh. I dug out my favourite fitness blogs that I used to follow. I decided I'm going to start exercising and practicing yoga again. I vowed to give up smoking, and chucked out my pack. And I felt a little better.
I need to emotionally break myself off from the last few years of my life. I have to stop indulging fantasy-type memories of relationships I had that were TRULY toxic, such as with Charlie and Rebecca. I keep glorifying and romanticising my time with them as if they were the best years of my life, but they really weren't. They were the worst. I was at my most psychologically unwell when I was friends with Rebecca, and she made it worse. We were terrible for each other. Charlie isn't a nice person anymore, and she probably caused me the most damage last year out of everyone. I cannot continue to idolise them and reminisce and wish I were friends with them again. I cannot aspire to be like them anymore, I cannot live in this permanent state of nostalgia which ultimately winds me up depressed, and hating myself with a passion.
It's time to build myself back up again, nurture myself, and live for ME, not for anyone else. If I'm going to be depressed, I want to be depressed about MY stuff. I can't factor them into that depression on top of everything else. They will no longer have an effect on my mind like that, and I will no longer wither at the thought of what 'Rebecca and Charlie are doing without me'. It makes me weak, and I can't afford that, not now. I need to be strong, I need to be fit, and I need to be good to myself (and the people around me who truly care).
After making plans all day to starve myself again, I deleted all I'd written, and started afresh. I dug out my favourite fitness blogs that I used to follow. I decided I'm going to start exercising and practicing yoga again. I vowed to give up smoking, and chucked out my pack. And I felt a little better.
Sunday, 11 August 2013
I’ve been 145 for days, and it has frustrated the hell out of me. I want to drop these last 9 lbs so it can just be over, and I can concentrate on other things besides weight loss.
I worked out that when I'm back down to 136, my BMI will be at 20.1. The disordered part of me senses I’ll still be discontent with that, but it’ll be a lot better than where I am now.
I just want to buy pretty clothes and shoes and to feel confident in my own skin again. I’ve already dropped a stone, so why is this last stretch proving so difficult?
Ate a shit ton today already, and out of cigarettes.
Breakfast: Slice of Nimble toast with peanut butter + fat free lemon yogurt (240 cals)
Lunch: Nakd cocoa orange bar + Seattle latte + 2 packets of Hula Hoops :/ (560 cals)
Snack: Jaffa cakes x2 + diet coke (140 cals)
Dinner (yet to have): Butternut squash soup (160 cals)
Total: 1,100 calories
I worked out that when I'm back down to 136, my BMI will be at 20.1. The disordered part of me senses I’ll still be discontent with that, but it’ll be a lot better than where I am now.
I just want to buy pretty clothes and shoes and to feel confident in my own skin again. I’ve already dropped a stone, so why is this last stretch proving so difficult?
Ate a shit ton today already, and out of cigarettes.
Breakfast: Slice of Nimble toast with peanut butter + fat free lemon yogurt (240 cals)
Lunch: Nakd cocoa orange bar + Seattle latte + 2 packets of Hula Hoops :/ (560 cals)
Snack: Jaffa cakes x2 + diet coke (140 cals)
Dinner (yet to have): Butternut squash soup (160 cals)
Total: 1,100 calories
Saturday, 10 August 2013
Perfect illusions...
I come back home after a weekend away, and suddenly, I feel tiny. I'm wearing an outfit that two months ago I honestly wouldn't have been brave enough to wear - a tight long-sleeved v-neck navy top, tucked into high-waisted stretch American Apparel jeans (now baggy on me, despite the fact that I only bought them a month ago). A long-sleeved thin stripy cardi, heeled chunky suede boots, and my beloved thick-strap brown leather satchel from LA. I feel like Charlie in this outfit... maybe. My hair's tied back in a high ponytail that swishes while I walk, and I feel like I could be an off-duty dancer. I walk through the door, linger in the doorframe of the sitting room while my family sings my praise. And the funny thing is, I've eaten enough for 5 men this weekend (truckloads of sushi, crisps, vodka, tiramisu... oh, God, the tiramisu...) and I still feel thin. Because they're praising me, and I guess technically, I've lost over a stone, so I must look slimmer.
I eat more: chocolate, some red cabbage and potatoes from their roast dinner. It was delicious. Half an hour later, my body freaks out, and I die on the toilet for ten minutes. Apparently my digestive system cannot handle this quantity of food, and like clockwork, I will still be 145 in the morning. I am taking this as a good thing.
Caro and I spent the day eating, and watching Black Swan. That film is pure thinspo, I swear, and it's made me want to start dressing like a ballerina. I don't want to be perfect these days, but I wouldn't mind creating the illusion of perfection. Kind of like fooling other people into seeing pretty. I wonder if that would work.
I'm taking heed of my body's signals, and easing up on the restricting this week. I start work experience on the 19th, and I need my energy back by then. Healthy food is good, junk food is bad; but I can find a balance. I only want to lose 10 more lbs, and then I can be done, forever. I wonder if that will be enough, but I don't think I can afford to be asking myself such questions at this stage.
On another note, I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Tuesday morning. My doctors all seem to agree that I might have ADD. Guess I'll be adding that one to the list of other diagnoses... merely scribblings on paper that have neither helped nor hindered me, I suppose. Meh.
Plan for tomorrow:
Breakfast: Yogurt + slice of Nimble toast with Flora + tea
Lunch: Nakd bar + smoothie + iced coffee (seeing Caro)
Supper: Butternut squash soup + Sunbites wholegrain crisps (or fine-milled oatcakes)
Snack, optional: Options hot chocolate + 2 oatcakes with Dairylea
It sort of looks like my old recovery food plans. Which is strangely comforting, for reasons very unknown to me.
I eat more: chocolate, some red cabbage and potatoes from their roast dinner. It was delicious. Half an hour later, my body freaks out, and I die on the toilet for ten minutes. Apparently my digestive system cannot handle this quantity of food, and like clockwork, I will still be 145 in the morning. I am taking this as a good thing.
Caro and I spent the day eating, and watching Black Swan. That film is pure thinspo, I swear, and it's made me want to start dressing like a ballerina. I don't want to be perfect these days, but I wouldn't mind creating the illusion of perfection. Kind of like fooling other people into seeing pretty. I wonder if that would work.
I'm taking heed of my body's signals, and easing up on the restricting this week. I start work experience on the 19th, and I need my energy back by then. Healthy food is good, junk food is bad; but I can find a balance. I only want to lose 10 more lbs, and then I can be done, forever. I wonder if that will be enough, but I don't think I can afford to be asking myself such questions at this stage.
On another note, I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Tuesday morning. My doctors all seem to agree that I might have ADD. Guess I'll be adding that one to the list of other diagnoses... merely scribblings on paper that have neither helped nor hindered me, I suppose. Meh.
Plan for tomorrow:
Breakfast: Yogurt + slice of Nimble toast with Flora + tea
Lunch: Nakd bar + smoothie + iced coffee (seeing Caro)
Supper: Butternut squash soup + Sunbites wholegrain crisps (or fine-milled oatcakes)
Snack, optional: Options hot chocolate + 2 oatcakes with Dairylea
It sort of looks like my old recovery food plans. Which is strangely comforting, for reasons very unknown to me.
Friday, 9 August 2013
Sushi party
I'm maintaining 145 lbs eating around 1,000 calories a day. I'm shooting for a bit less than that, but I've made a decision to only lose 9 more lbs. 136 is my new 'goal'. I've been there before, and I can be there again, I'm confident. My new diet will consist of good, nourishing foods: soups, sushi, porridge, good oils from things like olives and sundried tomatoes (my new favourite thing), reduced fat cheese, lots of fresh salad veggies, tuna, tea, fruit. When I reach 136, I'll be switching back to the kind of health-freak diet I was eating last August combined with exercise, in order to maintain my weight loss. I can work on maintaining before I go to uni, safe in the knowledge that when I go away, I won't be piling on pounds the minute I start a new lifestyle.
Tonight is Caro's birthday, which will involve copious amounts of sushi. YUM. It's so odd that she's only turning 19, when in a month I will be turning 20. Strangely, I feel like she is the older one.
Well I'm seriously late for helping her pick up her cake from the centre of town, so I need to hop in a shower ASAP. Sorry for the brief and boring update, I'll let you know how the party goes though :)
Tonight is Caro's birthday, which will involve copious amounts of sushi. YUM. It's so odd that she's only turning 19, when in a month I will be turning 20. Strangely, I feel like she is the older one.
Well I'm seriously late for helping her pick up her cake from the centre of town, so I need to hop in a shower ASAP. Sorry for the brief and boring update, I'll let you know how the party goes though :)
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
Back in control
I'm currently sitting at my desk with a giant mug of lemon squash (5 calories), listening to the Shawshank Redemption soundtrack, and dying for a cigarette, of which I have none. It's so time for me to cut down again.
Yesterday, I ate around 800 calories, but dropped another pound. I'm down to 145 again, and it's weird to think I'm only 3 lbs off pre-Amsterdam weight. I feel 'slim' here. Not thin, but 'slim', and perhaps I could feel happy with that for a while. Maybe it's because I was in the 150s for the better part of this year, and the drop has made me feel smaller than I am? But I've lost a stone since my high point a couple of months ago, and it's a good feeling.
I'm totally in control of this. I can take it however fast or slowly I'd like. I don't hate my body, and I'm not desperate to shed 'layers and layers of icky fat'. I know I want to be in the 130s again, eventually, but I have two whole months to do that, and then I'm moving out of this mould for good. It's chill.
The plan, as it stands, is to alternate between 600 and 800 calories every couple of days to keep my metabolism from completely failing on me. Today and tomorrow will be 600 days, Friday I'll allow myself 800 as it's Caro's birthday. We'll be having sushi, cake and Smirnoff Gold cinnamon vodka shots :o It's gonna be insane. And I am not going to get too drunk, like I did on the last night of Portugal. Ohhh no.
Was lovely to hear from a couple of you on my last post :) I'm going to catch up on everyone's blogs tomorrow, as I have a ton of inoculations this afternoon :/ Dead-arm times, yay.
Monday, 5 August 2013
A month too long
I just got back from Portugal, and I'm tired. Weight loss has happened. I'm now back down to 147 lbs, which feels positively surreal, but I'm happy about it. I'm back on the restricting train. I was abroad with my mum, her boyfriend, her son, my sister, and Caro. It was lovely. We swam, played tennis, went to the beach, and ate high-protein, nutritious European meals. There was no room for bingeing or useless overeating at night, because I was around someone all the time. Is it too soon to say I might be over bingeing? Because I haven't binged since before we left for LA, at the end of June, and that is a very long time for me.
With regret, I've also found myself drifting away from this blog. I am so out of touch with this world, I've forgotten how salubrious it can feel to get everything out in writing. I did write on holiday - pages and pages, although I'm not entirely sure if they mean anything, or say anything remotely important about what's been happening. I don't know if any old followers still read this journal, but if you are one of those long-time readers of mine, you'll remember who Rebecca was, in all her twisted glory. For the new ones, Rebecca was a friend I had back at school, and we had a very complex and intense friendship made almost impossible to maintain due to respective eating disorders, and the competition/destruction that arose between us because of them. Early 2012 we parted ways, right around the time I was in hospital, and none of us ever heard a word from her again.
When I was LA, I received a message from her. It was long and rambly and apologetic, and she went into excessive detail about how bad she felt about leaving, how she was off to McGill in August and needed to make amends before she left for good. I was shell-shocked, to say the least, We stroke up a conversation, and we ended up pouring out to each other. She suggested meeting up in the last week of July, and with a nervous excitement, I agreed it would be good to see each other. On the day, she stood me up, with no word since explaining what happened. It did exactly what Caro warned me would happen: it fucked me up inside. And I've been slightly fucked up ever since, especially since learning that she and Charlie are now incredibly close - a disheartening, off-kiltering, jitter-inducing nugget of information.
But moving on from that - I'm concentrating on the good things in my life. I love my family. I love them so, so much - and I love that my family keeps growing as the months go on. I'm off to uni at the end of September, which I am incredibly excited (and nervous) about, but I know it'll be a fantastic experience, and I'll finally be able to knuckle down to work at a subject I love, not to mention meet some new people. And, strangely, I feel like I have control of my weight for the first time in a while. I'm thrilled not to be in the high 150s anymore. Looking back, I don't know how I let myself out of the house. And while 147 is a number I've always considered high, it feels very comforting to be back at this goalpost. Because I know that I've gone from 147 to 144 to 140 very easily in the past - the proof is in this blog. And I will do that again.
I'm definitely planning on updating more from now on. I'm doing 600 calories a day for now, and it helps to chart it up somewhere, to mark progress.
I don't know if anyone will read this, or be interested, seeing as I've been gone so long, and my past updates have been extremely sporadic. But it would be great to see if there are any of you still out there. If you are, let me know.
xxx
With regret, I've also found myself drifting away from this blog. I am so out of touch with this world, I've forgotten how salubrious it can feel to get everything out in writing. I did write on holiday - pages and pages, although I'm not entirely sure if they mean anything, or say anything remotely important about what's been happening. I don't know if any old followers still read this journal, but if you are one of those long-time readers of mine, you'll remember who Rebecca was, in all her twisted glory. For the new ones, Rebecca was a friend I had back at school, and we had a very complex and intense friendship made almost impossible to maintain due to respective eating disorders, and the competition/destruction that arose between us because of them. Early 2012 we parted ways, right around the time I was in hospital, and none of us ever heard a word from her again.
When I was LA, I received a message from her. It was long and rambly and apologetic, and she went into excessive detail about how bad she felt about leaving, how she was off to McGill in August and needed to make amends before she left for good. I was shell-shocked, to say the least, We stroke up a conversation, and we ended up pouring out to each other. She suggested meeting up in the last week of July, and with a nervous excitement, I agreed it would be good to see each other. On the day, she stood me up, with no word since explaining what happened. It did exactly what Caro warned me would happen: it fucked me up inside. And I've been slightly fucked up ever since, especially since learning that she and Charlie are now incredibly close - a disheartening, off-kiltering, jitter-inducing nugget of information.
But moving on from that - I'm concentrating on the good things in my life. I love my family. I love them so, so much - and I love that my family keeps growing as the months go on. I'm off to uni at the end of September, which I am incredibly excited (and nervous) about, but I know it'll be a fantastic experience, and I'll finally be able to knuckle down to work at a subject I love, not to mention meet some new people. And, strangely, I feel like I have control of my weight for the first time in a while. I'm thrilled not to be in the high 150s anymore. Looking back, I don't know how I let myself out of the house. And while 147 is a number I've always considered high, it feels very comforting to be back at this goalpost. Because I know that I've gone from 147 to 144 to 140 very easily in the past - the proof is in this blog. And I will do that again.
I'm definitely planning on updating more from now on. I'm doing 600 calories a day for now, and it helps to chart it up somewhere, to mark progress.
I don't know if anyone will read this, or be interested, seeing as I've been gone so long, and my past updates have been extremely sporadic. But it would be great to see if there are any of you still out there. If you are, let me know.
xxx
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