Once again this week has turned out to be extremely busy and most of the time I’m not sure whether I’m coming or going. There have been so many moments over the last few days when I’ve just wanted to just stop, fall where I’m stood or crawl under the table and just cry. Cry about the fact that my body is hurting and I don’t know how to show it the kindness that it needs, or that my heart hurts and I don’t know why, or because my brain feels like it’s firing constantly and refuses to stay still without hurtling from one thought to the next. I know I can’t do that. I don’t drop my defences like that, not even in private anymore. I just cannot let myself go to that place because I fear there is the potential for me to not come back for quite some time. Yet I have to appear that I am wonderful, and so I throw out jokes and give pep talks to colleagues and sit in classes scribbling away, making page after page of notes. I am trying to prove something I think. That I am not useless or a waste of space. I am trying to justify why I am taking up space on this planet by moulding myself into what people need me to be. That’s what it feels like I spend most of my time doing, tuning into the expectations others and trying to live up to them.
It is having an impact on my body image which in turn it has having an impact on my intake. It’s falling into a pattern. Feeling bad – feeling fat and ugly – feeling out of control – restrict – physical impact – eat – feeling bad…and so on. I thought I was covering it up well, the tiredness and the toll. After all I am not back where I was. I haven’t fallen back into full on restriction. I am mostly maintaining my weight. I am trying to listen to my body. Then I saw my CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse). There are words that when said cause my stomach to flip over backwards and my head to spin a little, words such as “Cognitively slowed down” “inpatient” “you look like you can’t function”. I wanted to be angry. What right does she have? To make a judgement as though she has the slightest idea what I’m going through? She wanted to discharge me when she leaves the team, no one around me thinks that’s a smart move, I don’t think it is either. I told her and she made me feel like shit. Her words were that no one could help me anymore. This is it. I had to do it because no one knew what else to do. Her alternative suggestion was that I go inpatient for a couple of weeks, as though it would fix everything, as though once my diet is fixed so will everything else. We left it in the end. I couldn’t process the conversation. She’s leaving. I’m getting a new care-coordinator and maybe this time will be with someone who I can actually talk to without feeling the need to break something.
Guys…I don’t know what I’m doing and instead of stopping and trying to figure it out I just throw more things into my schedule hoping that it will keep the intensity at bay. I don’t want to participate in any meltdowns of my mind any time soon.