Sunday, 7 February 2016

Two weeks in (almost...)

This is how I felt earlier today, I wrote down my feelings and wanted to share...

I am contemplating whether recovery is worth it when life doesn't feel worth living. it's not so much that I want to do die but more s that it feels too hard to live. I started recovery (again) almost two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, I went to Enfield Town and enjoyed coffee with my sister while I told her how I scared I felt about starting the day program.

While it isn't about the weight, I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me. Yes I have read about million articles about rapid weight gain in the first few weeks of recovery and how this is water retention. Knowledge is power and I do feel better knowing this; but it doesn't mean I also do not feel like a complete and utter failure.

I remember this feeling from when I was weight restored. I felt so lonely and alone. I couldn't see the point in fighting each day to live a life of loneliness, depression and anxiety. This isn't about facing fear foods and weight gain, while bot of these need to be tackled, this is about something deep inside which finds this all too much. I have never fully recovered, whatever that means. The past few years I have lived in a half-way house with fun mirrors, where yes I looked normal, but would I eat hat extra biscuit offered to me at work? No. Would I eat outside of my allocated meal times? No.

I spent one and a half years post discharge from inpatient; lapsing, coping and functioning. Then I relapsed.

My greatest fear is the same as when I first started recovery; getting to a healthy weight and still feeling like this. It isn't just a fear though. It happened to me and no one listened until my weight started to drop. I didn't start restricting because I thought I was fat. I started cutting back on my food because the thoughts became so loud and unbearable that I couldn't take it anymore. I could not function. I was desperate for that sense of relief, until it was too late and I was trapped in the vicious cycle of anorexia.

So now what?

I am in recovery again. What will be different this time? Because at the moment it just feels the same...

My mood really plummeted today (unlike my weight lol. Too soon for jokes? Maybe). So instead I did something helpful, I went and had my nails done. Gel nails are my new addiction, I went for a purple plum colour. This isn't my image but it is this sort of colour

I battled with the thoughts that I should be saving money as I have currently taken sick leave from work. However, since I haven't been buying any new clothes and I have no social life to speak of at the moment, I thought I could splash out on this treat. I am not usually someone who has their nails done, I am terrible with keeping up with a polished anything, plus with my constant hand washing and anorexia the skin on my hands look terrible, but sometimes self-care is needed and do you know what that is okay.

I came home, had some lunch and then headed off to R's house, where I received lots of cuddles and had a nap.

Am I completely better? No, but I took the steps to try and look after myself. My mood hasn't been fixed but maybe I am learning how to look after myself better?

I guess time will tell...

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