My little red balloon

Each day I'm out of hospital is a blessing. Each day I don't die I can't help but think what will tomorrow, the next week, month year look like. Will I get better? Or, worse?

I can't remember what I said in my last post it feels like an eternity ago since I wrote. Perhaps that's because the last entry was an accumulation of about 4days worth of effort to write something substantial. 

Tomorrow is yet another 4weeks past since my last appt with the psychiatrist it makes me shudder just to think of it. My energy is drained I can't help but lose all sense of empathy. I hope he's as exhausted as I am and just doesn't say anything that'll hit a nerve because I don't have the patience I'm paying the money you ask the questions and I'll try to summon the energy to respond more then a head gesture. 10am bright and early in the prime of my day haha that's I'm funny.

I'm not sleeping. For the past two weeks I have anywhere between 0-4 hrs sleep. And even that's not restful. It takes forever to drift off and then I'm restless and constantly waking up and checking the time that has lapsed. I've had 1 solid(ish) nights sleep of 6hrs! Shock horror. And then yesterday I slept 4hrs and went back to bed mid morning for another two. I had my first REAL hangover. 

So I suppose that calls for some explaining? I had a friend who turns 21 on Wednesday she invited a group of our old school friends round to her joint on Saturday night for a bbq drinks and board/card games. Out of a moment of pure madness I accepted the invite only later to regret it I couldn't pull out it was her 21st! And I've missed so many milestone birthdays in the past 2 years. Plus I'd need a pretty darned good excuse to skip it seeing as she lives 3 doors down. I bought 4bottles of sugar free vodka cruisers-lolly water (I love how they are 'sugar free' and yet still have far too many calories), a strongbow apple cider and two Canadian clubs mixed with coke- more Canadian club then coke.  The unplanned for 3 were needed the young children (2yrs younger then me lol) were talking about eating disorders and how fat they were and blergh. No, just no. I was very tipsy and if I leant over my chair very nearly went ass over head but it was a fun night I enjoyed it and stumbled home at 1.30am. Once home I rode 10k and wrapped presents and wrote cards for the proceedings day.

I awoke yesterday and the world was spinning I felt like puking. Which probably wasn't helped by the fact I only ate a lettuce leaf and a sausage Saturday. But I had to get up and face the day because it was Father's Day (one of the biggest days of the years supermarkets cash in on those wanting to splurge affection-Apple on a stick. Makes me sick. Makes my heart beat 2-46). And my little brothers 7th birthday the hex of an Anorexic in flight. 

September for me is the worst month for celebrations apart from Christmas which involves my sisters birthday, Christmas Day, the aftermath and New Years (and when I was at school end of year breakup). September similarly involves Father's Day, my brothers birthday, my nieces birthday, my brother in laws birthday, my birthday afl grand final and 3 days after my birthday putting us just into October is my older sisters birthday and about a week or two after that is the show. September 1st marks the decent into total chaos!

Needless to say I was extremely bloated yesterday. And my little balloon has deflated a teeny bit but it's still full of too much hot air. Ugh.

Oh and my grandmother is also possibly coming down for 3-5days next week. I wish no ill upon her but I wish something happened to prevent her coming or at least not for as long. Just can't deal! Need my space and no prying eyes thank you. 

>>>WARNING DO NOT ENTER RESCUE MODE<<<.

Long days turn into endless nights. Restless sleep or exhausting fatigue. 

The day's break with a chalk sky smeared with pastels pinks and purples that turn to blue. The days are monotonous. 

You follow the same routine and try to further the boundaries you threaten to break. You push your body as your mind pushes you. 

You feel nothing and yet you feel everything. 

The only thing that ties you to this world is the cold that nips at your bones the icy air that fills and burns your lungs all in the same breath and the heaviness of your eyes fighting for rest.

Silver freckles cut through the night. And leave your anxiety worse then day break. 

All the 'what could of been' play on and the 'what ifs' play out. 

It's hard to put my life into words at the moment. This coherent profoundly articulate being has been reduced to nothingness. My mind does not rest. I feel trapped in my own head. Like I'm swimming against the swell. I feel like there is nothing of importance to contribute my voice evidently falters as I retreat into my bird cage subdued by poison ivy. Inside my body the quietness is nonexistent the bellowing drill sergeants voice wraps around me like a python. It does not bite. It slowly suffocates. But on the outiside in this world I feel empty, I feel hollow, I feel a dull ache a yearning perhaps? I feel like I'm not really a person anymore more an object. 

The waves lick at the side of your boat as you mount them and ride over them into the horizon. You tentatively ignore its whispers. You ignore the people in your life. But more importantly you ignore your inner self. The same self that is not contaminated by the bacteria that in a laboratory grows with the warmth and humidity. You cannot starve the wild fire of oxygen so you wait patiently, eagerly for it to burn out and lose its passion and zeal it could take days or in this case years. 

I submissively took myself to the ER against my better judgment Thursday last week. I'm having a crushing sensation in my chest and I had a sever bout of vision loss. I arranged an appt with my GP expecting her to wave me off dehydration, malnutrition and too much exercise she'd say. She did not. She ordered an urgent blood test and ecg. She turned to me with fear trembling in her voice as she lay the facts on the table like she were to lay a hand of cards in a game of poker. "Your body is not coping. The vision loss is concerning. The 'chest heaviness' is gravely worrying. You are at serious risk of kidney failure and even cardiac arrest". The words reverberated in my head like a gong had been struck only to have the sound dissipate moments later. 

I had the blood test and ecg. The pathologist struggled to retrieve blood and then attached electrodes on my bare skin the weight of this voluptuous woman was somewhat comforting like a warm hug as she attached the wires that would conclude my heart still beats I am alive. And with the results in a mere 2hrs later I was urged to 'take control' before it had to be taken from me. I was suffering 'dangerous' iron deficiency which needed an infusion, postural drop in bp, tachycardia raised upon standing, a borderline high protein level (indicating dehydration), and my kidneys were starting to struggle I was told I had stage 2 kidney disease (I find it interesting I was in this exact boat with my kidneys toward the end of September last year). Which all in all meant absolutely nothing to me except if I don't do something now in the coming weeks I may not have a choice at least if I decide I can choose treatment and admission length. So 1lt of fluid later the dr looked at my results dismissed them and discharged me whilst still tachy noting nothing else except the slightly high protein level. Was my GP overreacting? 

Howevere therefore determining dehydration not resolved due to the lack of urgency or care so I have little faith anything else has been resolved. But I am consoled by the fact the lovely GP can not write me off as neglectful and take my rights away. I worked with her. Well enough to hopefully have the reigns relaxed over the coming weeks. But if my digits do not level out my chances of feeling the wind in my face decline. Perhaps I must conceal the truth. What's the point when it's written on my face. More or less my bp, hr and bloods that are in constant check. I saw her again on Tuesday and she was still concerned saying she needed to consult with my psychiatrist as he had told her not to go into 'rescue mode' which she told me she feels she must. I rang her yesterday because my chest pain is increasing she told me to go to ER I refused. If I die at least it'll be over, no more chest pain no more lies no more perfection no more regiment no more sound. I don't see my gp again until September 22nd she's going away and she's fully booked until then nd there really is not much point she can't talk to me you can lead a camel to water but you cannot make it drink. We are both exhausted me with her trying to help and her with me for being so irrational and stubborn. See the psych on Tuesday that'll be a barrel of laughs Im sure. 

After the run in with the hospital my weight soared 1.4kilos. The next morning I was only 600g up but I was distraught. Inconsolable. Angry. Determined. Saturday morning I awoke and jumped on my scales enthusiastically like the way you used to jump on your parents Christmas morning anticipating what was to come. And I broke even. Quicker then I had expected I was banking on Monday, Tuesday if I were really pushing my luck. But I suppose miracles do happen perhaps there is a god up there that hears our prayers and heals our heartache. My weight has come to a trickle since Sunday losing only 600g. Since Tuesday I have lost 200g! It's deflating bit I must remind myself something is better then nothing! Plus take a step back and look at the bugger picture 9.1kilos  (20.02lb) and 3.0 off my bmi in a month and 4days is an achievement not many would be strong enough to achieve. I am astounded and yet I can't connect the dots my pens has run out of ink...

Plus my little feat is my little sister commented on Saturday I had "lost a lot of weight" she was angry so I told her I had gained 1kilo she retorted "where not your stomach you used to have a stomach like me and now, there's nothing" I was actually offended at her reaction I was angry she had notived and I was sad I couldn't see one change except the behaviours in which I engage. 

The day in the life of Anorexic me...

Take off your necklace.

Now your rings.

Glasses.

Bracelets.

Hair ties.

And fitbit.

Pull your t-shirt over your head.

And your pants below your knees.

Hold your breath. 

Step on the scales.

Off.

And on again.

Grab your phone.

Sit in front of the heater.

Naked.

Taking in and scrutinising every inch of your body.

Document the number.

And do the math.

BMI.

And 'total loss'.

Kilos.

And pounds.

Stand up.

Wrap your hand around your wrist.

Your upper arm.

Your thigh.

Suck in.

Let it all 'hang loose'

And in again.

Look in the mirror. 

What do you see?

I see fat.

I see bones.

Run your fingers across your ribs.

Hip bones.

And collar bone.

Like ivory keys on a piano.

Delicate and soft not to bruise.

I see a self worth based on numbers going up 

And plummeting down again.

I see control.

I see self loathing.

And self love.

I see soul crushing anxiety

And heart penetrating elation.

Breathe life into a lifeless body.

Give me purpose. 

And a goal. 

Give me an A* for perfection.

Give me an A* for the best listening skills.

Give me an A* for being the best student.

Give me an A* for Anorexia.

The numbers are down again at first 100g. 

Then a further 200g. 

And now another 100g. 

400g today. 

Total loss of 7.7kg. 

16.94lb.

2.4 off my BMI. 

In less then a month.

1kg since Monday. 

2.2lb.

I would say this is a true measure of success. 

The numbers hold the strings to my self worth.

A twang either way could send me shooting high.

Or crumbling low.

I've induced 83calories today.

And it's 6.00pm.

489calories planned for the remainder of the day.

Not to mention the ruminated purging to follow.

Tonight not much will flow. 

Pasta my foe! 

Carbs a pain in the ass to the rid the body mind and soul.

The hot water bellowing over me.

Steam clouding around my feet. 

Blood pressure dropping.

And heart rate rising. 

Blood pooling in your ears.

Did anyone hear me?

Is tonight the night I'll be caught with two fingers thrust deep down my throat?

Bend down to refit the drain.

The A* plumber you would make!

To hide the demon and stuff them deep down inside those pipes.

My only prayers for tonight?

Please drain don't block!

Wait until 8pm.

Then slide out to your room.

Untuck the sheets and pop the pills.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

And 6

Then add another pink capsular about 4cm long.

Break it in half.

Now grab the prescribed pills.

The anti depressants.

The mood stabilisers. 

And the sleeping aid.

Swallow the tiny pink pill the size of a peppercorn.

No water of course!

And dissolve the other one on your tongue.

Let it fizzle as you grab your last white capsual.

And slip back inside.

Smile and make small talk something about "ugh it's so cold out there" 

Or "I need to fill another script"

Your decoy to swallow your ever needed laxatives and diet pills with a mouthful of juice.

9pm comes around and you fall into a restless sleep.

Dreaming of food.

Of toothpaste.

Perhaps it is more alikened to that of a nightmare.

Tossing and turning.

Stomach churning.

Mind racing.

I should be moving. 

Burning more calories.

Not trying to gain some ever needed shut eye.

To reduce the exhaustion 

And fatigue.

Did I really just do that? 

Wake in the morning sweat pooling.

Blankets on the ground.

Relief it was just a concoction of the mind.

Run your hand along your stomach taking in the size of your body.

Did it shrink overnight?

Or did it grow!

Relieve yourself in the toilet 

Flush.

Now to 'eat' your breakfast. 

When secretly you leave a bread crumb trail. 

Like Hansel and Gretal I've been lead down the windy path of Anorexia to the candy castle of numbers. 

And let the ritual of weighing, exercising, counting and distracting appointments begin.

Let lies lubricate your tongue.

And glassy eyes conceal the truth.

Pray to God that they won't lock you away and throw the key away today. 

A double life

Leading a double life

The title says it all. I'm leading what feels like a double life. Each juxtapose the other.

On the one hand I am trying to be bright for my family. 

Trying to smile. 

Trying to compose myself. 

Trying to show them I'm happier. 

I'm healthier.

I'm eating more.

And applying for jobs.

This life seems to be the facade.

Then my team see the other side of me. 

The real side.

The side that struggles to eat 

And even more so struggles to keep her fluid intake up.

Struggles to stop exercising.

Stop weighing.

Struggles to sleep.

And be happy. 

They see the side that can not be hidden.

The obvious weight loss. 

And the obvious physical side effects the toll my anorexia is taking on my body. 

My 'dangerous' iron deficiency.

My postural drop.

And my tachycardia.

But still I try to show them I'm the person I show my parents. 

Try to fool myself more so then anyone else.

Apparently the numbers don't lie however.

The lovely gp rang me this morning to wish me luck today, 

Make sure I was going and urged me to have something to eat and drink before I go so I don't collapse. As she put it. 

She reminded me and I wonder if this was more the meaning behind this unexpected call that she has a duty of care to me and I am at risk of cardiac arrest. 

She's waiting to hear back from my psychiatrist on guidance as what to do. 

She doesn't want to put me in hospital although physically she has every right to evoke her authority over me and she knows I should be there to be medically stabilised.

If I die ultimately they do not blame the victim they blame the person that knew and should of acted but did not. 

They do not blame the manufacturer of the bullet they blame the finger that pulled the trigger.

I had my interview.

It went rather smoothly considering.

I did take my seroquel before I went in so the butterfly's were in my tummy but my mind was subdued and only wanting sleep lol.

They asked generally questions and then behavioural questions where they ask a question and you have to describe a scenario and the outcome.

Then we had a role play phone call. Let's just say drama is not my strong point.

And then a tour of the office overlooking the picturesque waterfront. Oh man it was like something out of a movie I can see myself becoming a workaholic.

I find out if I get the job tomorrow. If I do I start next Wednesday. 

What will I do with my endless Appointment? What will I do with my medication that's going to cost an arm and a leg?

Back to my gp to reception to get that darned $130 pathology bill sorted. The receptionist looked at me blankly asking what I wanted her to do. She rang me gp, who came out to see me. She told me I looked gorgeous! Then proceeded to scold me about my intake. Again asking what I wanted her to do. I said nothing. Her argument was looking at my observations if I collapse she's in the shit. So I told her to delete them. She said she couldn't now they were entered into the system. I told her to trust me. She told me she didn't. She also said she's going to talk to Peter this arvo because she hasn't caught him yet argh. It's now past 4pm though so I doubt anything'll happen in the next hour.

How can I be functioning attending interviews getting up in the morning getting dressed doing my make up, you know all that adult stuff, and STILL be in 'danger' like it just doesn't add up. I can't wrap my little head around it. Too tired to try.

I'll let you know if she calls. And I'll let you know tomorrow if I've got the job

Also my weights down again 400g (total 7.3kg 16.06lb 2.4 off my bmi!) this is all within less then a month!

Xx much love to my non-existent readers bec

20%

It's been a while I get on top of my blog and then the shit storm that is my life gets on top of me.

It's utterly exhausting. There is not a moments peace in my life. Everything has a place a way and a time to be done. 

I started applying for jobs because my dad told me too, and I agree it's the only guarantor I have at moving out. At regaining my independence. But more importantly to me my control!

But that too is tiresome. I fear my pension will be cut I don't so much care about the money as much as I do about the government benefits, the only 'benefit' that matters to me is my medication! It literally costs about $170au. And I pay roughly half that as is. A job will give me an additional $200. So no job will cater for a life because my sanity hinges on these meds. How unfortunate my life morals have become. 

Any who I have an interview tomorrow. I had a phone interview today and she requested I have a face-to-face one tomorrow. I am in two minds about this 1)anxious and excited 2)apathetic and distant. 

I saw my councillor this morning. I don't know why I see her we talk about menial things. Today's topic of discussion was hobbies which I have none of or rather sporadic ones when I have the zeal for life. She asked if there was much point to seeing her with everyone else I said there was but really there isn't. She gives me 1hr every three weeks to take my mind off the merry-go-round in my head. I feel an end drawing near. 

I asked for my gp to leave a script at reception for me. Again for two reasons 1)she had no spare appointments and 2)I didn't want to see her. The reception ladies told me to take a seat she'd be out soon. I blurted "I don't want to talk to her!" Which ended with everyone laughing at me and me feeling rather childlike. She came out and I hopped she'd send me on my way saying this was the last time she could get the authority or something of the sort. Instead she asked me to follow her to her office. Heart in throat I followed like Mary's lamb. Tethered to her by her compassionate personality. She asked things like "How's your intake?"

"The same"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing I didn't ask to talk to you I just asked for a script"

"Can you step on the scales?"

"NO" We mutually agreed about 10mths ago noone in the medical industry would weigh me and now she threatened to renege and show me for the true blimp I am. To have such a number scrawled on my chart is just a mortifying thought

"Well how much have you lost?"

"6.7kilos"

"In how long?"

"I lost track"

"How often do you weigh yourself?" 

"14 times give or take"

"I can't imagine it'd change much in a day. It's obsessive"

"I guess, but I have to"

"I take it you don't want to go to hospital" -half question half statement

"NO"

"Right, come over here and let me get your bp"

Well I went over there with quite the bravo confident my body has adapted to the years of starvation. My bp dropped A LOT and my hr already tachycardic when I sat jumped A LOT when I stood. At her wits end she gave me no choice and said she was going to contact my psychiatrist. She wants me in hospital and she has all the evidence in front of her to do so. But she doesn't want to traumatise me. So she's looking for guidance from him she's half heartedly praying he steps up to the plate but we both know he'll do nothing, which I quite openly express my gratitude for.

Can't wait to see her next week! Haha sometimes I make myself laugh

Also I saw the gastroenterologist she's orders a gastroscopy and an iron infusion. I handed the forms in the other day although I adamantly did NOT want the iron infusion. After my run in with the lovely gp I went to the hospital and reneged which and some of the anxiety.

Maybe she's right? Maybe I will die...