Throughout my time in recovery it feels like I have been waiting for that wake up call. You know the one that makes you realise that what you thought you wanted isn’t actually what you wanted? I have been expecting to get up one day and have it click that my body is not something that I could continue to treat as horrifically as I have been doing and that my life is not something that I can continue to be so careless with. I think it’s starting to happen, although I wouldn’t actually call it a moment but more of a string of them that when combined are making me seriously consider how wrong I may have been to myself all these years. I think it comes from a sense of vulnerability that I have right now and that pains me to admit, but it is the truth. In this year alone there have been now two incidents that have made me have that whole life flashing before your eyes experiences. You think those moments are made up for tv but nope…they do actually happen and do you know what I saw when they happened to me? Destruction, hospitals, pain, crying, anger, running away…I saw my disorders emerging and taking me under and I also all the times I have sat on my knees begging to die. It all felt like a waste and that was a profoundly sad realisation. Is this how I will remember my life? Is that all my life has been. I have come close to death many times over the years and usually at my own hands but this time, this time when I thought I would be gone, it hit me that I didn’t want to be. Instead of dreading that I was going to wake up in the morning, this week I have been dreading that I won’t. As painful as I find my existence, it is still mine and I still want it. I want the possibility of it getting better. This cannot be how it ends…I can end my life a half started person.
I guess I should actually explain what has brought this on. I was in a car accident a few days ago (which is why it’s taken me a while to put up another post, sorry) and although it wasn’t that big an incident and everyone was able to walk away from the scene relatively ok, it still shook me up. At the time I thought I was mostly unhurt but a couple of hours later and things were kind of a different story. I ended up been told to go to the minor injuries hospital that evening and from there they told me I had to go to the actual accident and emergency department in a different hospital. As I was on weekend leave and in no fit state to drive, my Dad dropped me off – lets just say he wasn’t exactly pleased about this, well…both my parents were kind of pissed off with me. I sat alone in the department for a few hours, waiting to be seen and then waiting to be seen again. You know what the worst part was though? Realising that there was not one person that I wanted to call or that I wanted to be with me. Not one person who I could say that I needed. It was a pretty lonely place in my head that night. It’s been a lonely place ever since to be honest. I eventually got discharged and told that I had whiplash and a minor head injury which seemed relatively straightforward. The next day though all I could do was be on my couch at home because the pain in my head was kind of bad. I got back to the ward later on that evening and it went downhill from there. The pain became a lot worse and I started to get kind of confused. The light was intolerable, the nausea and dizziness horrible but I did try to ignore it for a while. I got my sleeping meds and was going to go to bed but figured that the sensible thing to do would be to at least inform the staff I was in an accident so they could have regular painkillers written up on my chart done. I’m not quite sure of the sequence of events afterwards. Things slipped, the duty doctor came, I was out of it because of my sleeping meds and then I was back in the accident and emergency department. Apparently the concussion was more severe than they thought and that I would just need to rest. Which would have been fine but I am in treatment and I still have to do treatment. I tried to shut myself in the dark for as long as I can but I still have to come out for meals, rest periods and groups. I still have to show up even when I don’t want to. I still have to eat. The duty doc was called again last night because it got really overwhelming and I cannot tolerate even the littlest bit of light. Today it’s not as bad but it’s there…still strong.
I suppose though that the last few days have shown me something. I do want to be alive. I don’t want to quit. My eating disorder feels so pointless because there is always something that has the potential to hurt me, no matter what lengths I go to protect myself. I can’t protect myself from everything. I imagine how much worse this incident could have been if I had been at my admission weight. I hate what I am doing to my body but I hate my body and all I feel in the end is confusion. How do I reconcile parts of myself that have never even met? How do I start being thankful for a body that allows me to be present in this world? How do I not hate it for the very same reason? I have been in inpatient for about 15 weeks now and sometimes it feels like I haven’t moved any further forward in my thinking. I still have no idea how to feed myself when I’m out on leave without the eating disorder hitting back at me. I still can’t manage to maintain or gain weight when I’m not here either. I am running out of time. Eventually I am going to hit my target weight (they’re adding in another thing to my meal plan today – not happy about this) and somehow I am going to have to learn how to not let myself drown again.
I am awake. I know all the things that I don’t want and I generally no longer have a space inside of me that wants to house the Eating Disorder. It’s still there and it’s trying to keep a hold of its home but I can’t let it. I can’t waste anymore of my life on this.
I hope your day has been and will be good to you.