For the last 2 days I have been sat in one hospital bed or another, waiting to ride out observations on a head injury. It hasn’t been the best time of my life. It hasn’t been easy either. My anxiety has been ridiculously high for several reasons. Firstly I was scared because I was not really with it and was in a lot of pain and discomfort. The second was all related to food. I got so stressed, because this is the week that I could not afford to let my eating slip any further…still can’t. So I’ve been eating here and there, not knowing if it’s enough, feeling like I’m losing control because of the simple fact that I could not make my own coffee or breakfast and I’ve had to have food that I’m not ok with. The eating disorder wanted to raise hell with me, refuse all food whilst my defences were down. I worked so hard to keep recovery at the front of my mind though, to force myself to eat because I recognise that this is one of the most important things that I am doing. That it takes priority, head injury or not.
It reminded me of a time in treatment. I was going through withdrawal from some medications, whilst starting a new one and having a bad reaction to some other ones. It felt like I was going to die. The nausea, the dizziness and that feeling of just getting off a rollercoaster that had been going for a half hour were overwhelming to me. But even in that time, I was still expected to get myself to the dining room and eat my meal because that was what I had to do, just not going was not an option. I have to apply that here. My Blood pressure is down the toilet, and I still feel sick, but I have to carry on eating because how the hell am I supposed to repair anything physically when my body does not possess the strength to do so.