Bump, Breasts and Bread

I've only spent 21 weeks and four days out of my 34 years and six months on the planet pregnant so far, but I can tell you, it’s changed me more than just physically, already!

I’d always been anxious about maybe one day having a baby, but never thought it would be something I’d be capable of. Firstly, emetophobia (fear of vomit) pushed the notion out - morning sickness, being sick in labour, then baby sick - not for me thanks! Thankfully, I’ve not suffered so far in pregnancy with sickness at all, the first trimester was quite breezy compared to some people’s experience. (*plenty of ginger did the trick!) 

Then there was the lack of menstruation for seven years at the worst my eating disorder. I was aware from the start of the crisis that every month I didn’t have a period I was eroding my chance of being fertile. Yet that didn’t persuade me to turn my back on anorexia at the time. Fast forward to 2019, lots of self care I mentioned in my first pregnancy post, and we conceived in May! 

Now the changes to my body. We hear the same old rhetoric from women about how ‘babies ruined their bodies’, society is obsessed with people losing ‘baby bellies’ and dropping the baby weight before they leave the maternity unit. As someone who’s recovered from anorexia - they all set off the alarm bells, everytime. Why on EARTH would I ‘ruin’ my controlled and monitored body? Give it up for 9 months and leave myself with a horror show? Nah! 

But you know what, I’ve been working hard to re frame all that now it's happening. It's part of what my doula is helping with, and why I am going to Positive Birth Groups and embracing positive pregnancy stories.

I am looking at my growing bump in excitement. I’m actually loving having bigger breasts and a big bump is a reminder that Baby Brown is doing well growing in there. Of course That doesn’t come naturally to me, a lifetime of craving no curves and ‘flatness’ takes some undoing, but I’m probably less self conscious of my body than at any time since I was about 10! I’d go as far to say as I’m proud of it. 

What I am more conscious of, and the part of the second trimester playing on my mind is eating and hunger. It’s constant. I am no longer setting the food rules by the clock or just for me. We know anorexia prides itself on the ability to control time and hunger - but no more. I’ve always told myself the story that I’m ‘greedy’, ‘glutinous’ and ‘piggy’ with no self control (despite never suffering with actual binging) but snacking more or adding more to plate bothered me. It still does, making this part of being pregnant harder to deal with right now. 

I am dealing with it, I have no choice - and secretly it is liberating to eat previously ‘banned’ foods - the ones I still banned until May this year! But it’s a work in progress. I’m staying away from counting calories as much as humanly possible and I’m eating when my body tells me I need to (music to my former dietitian’s ears!) intuitive eating, me? I know I’ll gain weight, I have to. I know I’m needing more fuel to grow a human and keep me energized for work. It needs to be a varied diet - with carbs and fats top of the list. I am doing that, eating more - but it doesn’t come naturally. 

Those greed thoughts are there, as are the ones I put into other peoples minds, assuming they’re agreeing. I still hate people commenting on my food and what I am eating, it really does get to me. (Please, don't do it, I am eating more, and differently, I am aware!)

It’s also my changing tastes, I’m going off my usual favourite lunch and dinners and craving more comforting meals, smaller volume, higher calories, like spaghetti hoops on toast and vegan fish fingers and mash. Woah, that's a lot for my head to take some nights, and even if it's tasty, it makes me want to cry when M asks me if I'm enjoying it! 

Yes I am scared about when my midwife next wants to weigh me, I worry about non-bump weight gain, like my bum and thighs, and who knows how I'll feel in February when he's here. But for now,  there’s never been a more crucial time for me to tune into my body and just bloody listen and trust it! I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt for the next 18 weeks and 3 days, because it’s doing something quite marvelous right now. Growing my little man.

Not okay in my own skin

Thighs that rub together and look chunky in tights. That feeling of a bra digging into flesh on my sides. Clothes hanging to my bloated stomach that has suddenly become a lot more prominent than it was. A face that is round and sides that are square, not narrow. Thicker. Wider. Bigger. Heavier.

And it’s all my fault.

That’s how I feel right now. I’m confused. Because I still don’t my allow myself many pure carbs, I rarely have sweets or chocolate. I can’t remember the last time I ate a slice of cake but hey, I’m fine. Not. I blame myself because I have stupid greedy habits, like needing mints or sugar free hard boiled herbals to calm anxiety about getting ill. I have jars of dried fruits that I pick at and I drink two hot chocolates a night out of habit and fear of being hungry over night (hangover from strict anorexia) and I don’t rub, I don’t exercise regularly and I hate myself for it.

It occurred to me at the till in a shop the other day - when a white chocolate kitKat caught my eye. Not only would I not buy it, ever. But that there is often FEWER calories in my evening meal than that chocolate bar. Really. This was something I was going to write down like a friend suggested to make a stock take of anorexic habits - that’s one. Fear of snacks other than fruit or controlled popcorns or seeds.

I can’t explain the disgust I have for myself for eating the bits I do without measuring. The dried fruits, the booze or the extra spoonful of cereal. I just want to Bin it all. I realise this is anorexia. I just don’t actually think I have the tools to accept this is okay.

I shouldn’t have seen the scales the other day. They’re playing on my mind. I don’t know how I’ve eaten the same and gained 3kg - unless it’s the booze, mints and lack of exercise - in which case my overwhelming instinct is to STOP The extra eating and actually move more again. I say I don’t like skeletal, I don’t. I just don’t like being this size either.

I don't like it. Any of it.

I am gaining weight. I don't like it.
I am letting myself eat more than 12 months ago. I don't like it.
I am letting myself drink more booze. I don't like it.
I am letting myself buy milky coffees most days.
I eat more nuts and dried fruit again....
I don't like my clothes feeling tighter, or having to buy a bigger size.
I don't like my body at all. Particularly my stomach and bloated torso.
I don't like that I let myself do this.
I hate the fact I have stopped exercising so much.

But I am letting myself do all this within rules. I could bullshit myself and say that I don't feel disordered but I am not in the bullshit game. And on the flipside...

I don't like that I still have SO MANY food rules.
I am stopping doing things I like. I don't like it.
I hate that I still count calories. But I do it.
I hate that my negative self talk win.
I hate that my life is still organised by food.
I am too sensitive and I don't like it.

But none of this is all-consuming. Just consuming sometimes. It ebbs and flows and feels like it used to back in the days before anorexia took control. Just frustrated and scathing of myself. Blaming myself for all of this, not knowing how to fix it.

I don't even feel like I can even BE anorexic and know turning that way doesn't fix things in the long run. I don't like not thinking I have options.

I don't like this half life. But the first list means I am stuck here.

I get by with a little help from...?

...well, I don't know how I get by to be perfectly honest with you. I just do.

Despite having regular moments of complete self-doubt, many moments of body checking and negative self talk. Despite living with the guilt of feeling greedy, despite not eating half of the foods I know I should. I get by with the rules I live by, the routine I crave and I get by with only the odd melt downs to friends.I get by with making sense of changing my 'menu' if I need to, I get by when I am too fed up to even give a sh*t.

Generally I think I get by with a *little* help because I am so god damn determined not to completely f*ck up my life (AGAIN). I get by with the tools I learnt in therapy to argue back with more logical suggestions or reasoning. I get by living on my terms and within 'accepted' guides.

People often ask me 'what support are you getting...' well, none. But I don't know what support I need, or want. That's the problem. I don't know what the issue IS exactly. Other than feeling the same as I used to about vast parts of my life. I don't have a solution to fix this. 

It's the same old "I am not good enough to do that...", "I will mess that up...", "I look fat/ugly/scruffy/wrong/not good enough", "I have nothing to wear because I don't fit in clothes"... Or maybe its at work..."I hope they don't hate me"...."It's my fault..", "I've done something wrong.." issues AND I still feel the absolute fear of actually going for something, despite wanting to do it. I hate how all this worry and anxiety means I come across way more negative a person than I actually am.

When I've said something in response or done something that I know is driven by my lack of self-belief or my fear of failing at it, or I am faced with something I am not fully sure of, I HATE my gut reaction. I instantly know what I have done, and I hate it. It also becomes another thing I beat myself up about.

But I digress, I get by with a little....well, a lot of rules and habits which I really don't like breaking. I get by in life by sticking to the rules. I'd love to not sure 'get by' with a little of anything. But in all honesty, I can't imagine life any different to this at the moment. When I say that, my best mate hates it. although, it's true. I can't.

I have always just 'got through' or 'got by' even when I HATE my body, HATE my habits and HATE that I am in the 'almost disordered' place, where I don't listen fully to anorexia - but don't TRUST or really WANT to push in the opposite direction, because to be quite honest I already dislike the feel and look of my body and don't really like what I perceive as greedy - and the fact I eat anyway and don't exercise. I sound like a broken record here, but it is just doubting EVERYTHING, it doubting the food I eat, doubting my ability at work, doubting what others tell me, and on...and on...

(Un)comfortably Numb

There are a few things swirling through my head this morning and I need to get them out: 

1) I feel UNCOMFORTABLE in my skin today, clothes are digging in, they feel tighter, It feels like I have to hide my body, I body checked and 'feel' like a 'barrel' and bloated.

2) I feel UNCOMFORTABLE not being able to identify how I feel.

3) Everything feels a little NUMB.

*Yes, feelings are not facts, blah blah. I know this. 

As for the numbness. My best friend and I were trying to get our heads around this one over coffee yesterday morning. We're both on headmeds, and know that can make a difference to this. In taking out the high anxiety or low mood, they leave us both feeling a little middle-ground, a little, well numb. I can see why they're not always given to people recovering from anorexia though, as for every time they take the edge of anxiety - they take the edge of any motivation to see the NEED to eat more, exercise less or keep myself in 'check' with the lessons recovery taught me. 

But this numbness bothers me - and comforts me at the same time.

Reality is that to me, I am being lazy and greedy recently. I've exercised a lot less, not been for a run for more than two months, I've spent more time at home, doing things like watching TV or pottering around. This feels uncomfortable, but I struggle to find the motivation to put on my trainers or go out.

Don't gasp in horror or shock, it's obvious, but I still track calories more than I possibly should do. Recently, I've been more relaxed about seeing the total at the end of the day rise. A good thing you say? In my head it still isn't. Most people would tell me that I don't consume enough per-day, but in all honesty, I hate a) that it's a high as it is - but I don't know why? b) I honestly feel like I am a secret eater, because my weight isn't going down and c) I assume the secret eating 'tops up' and takes me to RDA. I wish sometimes I could just blurt out how much I eat, what I eat, my weight blah, because it would stop the hypothesise of others'. Yes, I still feel like this five years on. 

"But it's good that you put on weight" said the best friend yesterday...well, it STILL doesn't feel like that to me. It feels like, NOTHING. Numb. I don't want to lose, or gain or think about it. So I block it out. Probably not helpful, but what is? I guess it's helpful that I don't ACTUALLY know what I weigh - I stopped my monthly weigh-ins in November, so of by accident, sort of because I don't like seeing it go up. I am not in a dangerous BMI, I am not overweight. I give and shit and don't care at the same time. 

Many of you know that I went back for a few sessions at the EDU, well they've written suggesting that I DONT need the services, and need to decide my next move if anxiety is the issue. The private therapist I was seeing through my employer can't see me anymore - you only get 6 sessions. The general talking therapies counsellor told me I was too complex (it's how I ended up back at EDU). But the thing is, I can't be arse with any of it, because things are sort of comfortable.

But what niggles at me is that they're sort of comfortable, because they're comfortably numb.

A world of Lions and Zebras

Do you think the most ferociously proud lion cub ever wishes it could just be a zebra? 

I promise I'll get to the point here, but my therapist said something to me this week which has stuck in my thoughts. (I digress, but it's been impacted more this morning by catching up on 'Brainwashing Stacey' - with Big Game Trophy Hunters on BBC3!) and is something that might do me well to put into action, thought wise, not hunting, obviously.

I've always beaten myself up for not being one of 'the crowd'. Whatever that crowd maybe. Way back growing up, I've always been a little different, worried about things other people didn't worry about. 

Proud of things and passionate about things that no one else cared for. Half due to the panic attacks and my mental health - but half because I am me. This ALWAYS bothered me. I have spent 31 years beating myself up about being the 'one that spoke up' or the friend who 'fell out with people she disagreed with' or the teenager that didn't want to get paralytic and throw up. I always thought I was wrong. That I have always been the odd one out and that meant I was wrong.

Even with regards to anorexia, I know there is no 'stereotypical' suffering of an eating disorder, no mirrored recovery, but there is generally a pattern that is evident. I didn't even feel I ever 'fitted in' with that tribe either. I still don't, even when people comment on my blogs, I just think YOU DON'T GET ME. It's not like that in my head, I am fierce, yet fearful. 

It's like I sway constantly between NOT wanting to be in a herd of zebra, to wishing I had stripes. 

In one breath I find myself wishing I blended in. Wishing that I was indistinguishable from another sheep or zebra. Annoyed that they all live harmoniously together. I want to be defined by something decided by someone else, not myself. This can include wanting to be invited to lunch with colleagues, or family, wanting to be the same as everyone else, even though I am the polar opposite to some. 

Then in the next moment I remember I am a lioness. Different, proud and fierce. I feel strong alone. I know what I like and how I like it. I am focused on the way I live my life and think 'fuck the rest'. But the problem is, I only have flashes like this. I spend most of the time worried about my mane or why I can't be one of the herd. I roar and then worry about why that has upset their grazing, and end up wishing I hadn't roared at all. I blame me, for being me.  

But what my therapist said to me this week is a perspective I had not considered before. Lionesses spend time alone, they are animals who need their own space. They are fierce but they care deeply about their own pride. So, do you think zebra, who goes around in herds and NEED those herds, would be comfortable with a lion going for lunch? Would they fear that lion? Maybe, just maybe. what if another lioness came along? Would that cause friction? Maybe. But, it doesn't have to. You each just want to protect our own, but we are alike and can try to understand. 

I guess, what I am getting at is that it is accepting that am a lion whether I like it or not. As a cub I might have been given mixed messages, but I am strong and fierce and that is why I am still alive. 

That is why I was strong enough to escape the herd of zebras anorexia wants from people. Now, it is why I need to remind myself that in life, I need to worry less about what other people are saying about me, thinking of me or doing - and roar. 

Why ARE you here Sarah?

When you have NO idea why you're sat back in the chair of a therapy room of the eating disorders unit, that's not what one wants to hear. My initial thoughts were "because I am a me-me who wants the attention and loves her fake anorexia..." 

Yes, really. Second thought was "I don't know." followed soon after by "...you tell me..." 

I certainly have no idea, that's for sure. Yes, I haven't gained the weight they initially wanted me to. Yes, I still have rules that could be seen as anorexic. No I don't like my body. Yes I do count calories...and no, I don't know why I am here.

What do you want to do? What goals have you got? What do you hope to achieve by coming back?

I DON'T KNOW. 

What makes it MORE confusing and the thoughts I am left with after my second session with Dr K. (the 'new' Mrs W/Dr B) is that SHE doesn't think I need to be there. She thinks I am 'recovered' enough and she thinks my coping strategies are healthy enough for me to live like this FOREVER.

It makes me want to cancel my referral and just keep on dealing with my shit in my own way. Why? Because I don't have any goals. I am not going to kid myself that 'hitting a target weight' is going to be one of my goals. I will not go hop, skip and jumping down the unit corridor motivated to gain weight. I just can't see it. Not is a destructive way, I am not losing, nor bothered about losing. I just really have not got the motivation to do that.

When people ask me, therapist, friends and family, "don't you want to be able to eat X or do Y or believe Z"....well no, I don't really care too much for XY or Z to be honest with you.  I have never enjoyed food, it's since the day dot for me, been functional. I am not a 'foodie' and never will be. 

What I do wish I could work on is believing that I am okay, that I am not ugly or annoying or not good enough. I wish I believed that I don't need to micro-control every part of my life. But more than anything my goal is to know my goals I guess. 

Shaking Up and Breaking Up

For someone who doesn't do very well with change, I seem to be shaking up and breaking up left right and centre at the moment. 

I have been in my very own home for a month now already. People are right though, buying a house is one of the most stressful things I've ever done. But my gosh, when I turn the key and sit on my huge chaise sofa, it's nice and comforting to know it's all mine.

That's shake up No.1. The second is my recovery.

I went back to the EDU for the follow up to my review session a fortnight ago. Another go on the scales. I didn't like that at all. It messed with my month system of weighing in the same place, at the same place that I've had going since I was discharged. Despite not wanting to lose weight and actually wanting to get better - It stabs like a knife when its a different weight to 'my weight' and higher, at that. But I guess the fact the number bothered me, and the controls around the scales, is proof enough that I need what's coming next.

I am now on a longggg waiting list for another dose of  therapy. This time CBT-E. For four years I never worked to a specific type of treatment. The service itself admits that my emergency admission in 2011 meant I never really got the care I needed, and sort of made-do-and-mended with a range of different approaches.

I got the choice of CAT or CBT-E. I actually wanted to opt for CAT, but I was told the latter would be me best chance of kicking anorexia for good. It's going to be a wait and a half now. Time for me to get into a better place on my own so it's not too much of a shock to the system with calorie increases and challenges when I start up.

I am OVER the swallowing my pride stage. I need to do what I need to do to be freed, completely this time. I am stuck in that bid in the middle, Jenni Shaefer calls it 'Almost Anorexic' I think. Holding on to an unhealthy relationship with food. Letting rules and behaviours I was once a slave to still affect me. The thought of gaining weight still stresses me out, even if eating doesn't. But it's more about the fear of 'shaking up' my routine that bothers me.

So, the breaking up bit? Well, after I year, I decide I needed to break up with C. It wasn't working for me anymore. As good as things were, I found myself torn between so many things, I couldn't add therapy in there too. I need to focus on me again. I need to be free to listen to my head, and not feel more guilt about not being a good-enough girlfriend. I will miss his company, of course. I feel guilty for breaking up with him - but at the end of the day. I need to be authentic. I haven't chosen anorexia over a relationship. I have chosen me.

So, in a way, the shake up and break up actually leads to me making up with myself. Good deal that.

Looking back and thinking forwards

I'm not sure how to explain how it felt walking back to the eating disorders unit on Thursday, I actually made a 'Ughh' noise out loud heading up the driveway towards the outpatient department. Loud enough to wonder if anyone had heard me. It was a completely mixed set of emotions.

In some respects it felt familiar, like going back somewhere steeped in memories would, but in other ways it felt much more clinical and cold than before. I felt out of place and disappointed in myself. I didn't like how even knowing I was going there made anorexia louder, in a 'pride' sort of way. I didn't like that volume. Despite the residue of my eating disorder, I wouldn't say it was a voice which out-shouted my own for the past 18 months. I've been louder, which is why I've made the progress I have done thus far. 

My assessment was with a Dr. I'd not seen at all before, but whom I knew of. She also knew of me. 

I was weighed, measured, attacked by the vampire and had an ECG. The latter was fine, the bloods are pending, I seem to have shrunk 2cm in 2 year and my weight was higher than it was Saturday and lower than the last time they weighed me. 

Too low for them to be happy with. But not low enough to ring alarm bells. A BMI they're not happy with, a BMI which means I have been offered treatment. But I don't think it's my BMI which they're mostly concerned with. The lack of periods is one thing they're keen to change, as is my thinking about myself and  the food rules I still live by. 

It was a lot of the old questionnaires about self esteem, thinking, mood and emotion - the clinical side of things - and the therapy admin. We spoke at length about the care I'd had before - and how the service had changed since. Those people who have followed my blog from Day 1 will know that I have never defined the 'type' of therapy I had. Because I was never told. I ended up with a miss-match cobbled together careplan with no clear 'type' of therapy, no clear boundaries and no one style of work. That was partly because of the faults in the EDU, partly to do with my emergency admission in 2011, and my refusal for IP care, but need for serious support and finally, a little do with my quick move back to work - and ability to NOT focus on therapy. 

Things have changed. I have now been given two options. A course of CBT-E, with hardcore weight-gain, 20 sessions twice weekly and then 20 more one a week. With a focus on weight restoration, weigh-ins every session and then therapy to deal with all the anxiety OR CAT (cognitive analytical therapy) with an expectation but not a focus on WR, dealing with WHY I still think certain ways. Either 16,20 or 32 sessions. Obviously, the first is the one which is clinical proven to help anorexia best - the latter, a good option too. With the amount I have going on in my life, the latter is looking 80/20 most likely for me to go with. Plus, let's not bullshit. I'd be terrified of the first, but also, I have to keep my main focus on work and life. 

The one comment Dr. W made was "I think you owe it to yourself to finish off recovery"...and she's right. For as recovered as I am, I am not free. But what is hard to comprehend is being back there and not feeling like I belong. Being back there at all.  Although what is near-on impossible to get my head round and answer was the parting questions raised...."What do YOU want to get from going back? What purpose do my eating rules serve and am I willing to give therapy another go." 

Who knows? Probably. Maybe? Yes?

Stepping back, swimming forward

Not going backwards, but stepping back in to the eating disorders unit where four hard years were spent swimming through the waves of recovery.

That's what's happening this morning, and honestly, it feels rather strange.

This review has been triggered by starting on anti-anxiety medication, which meant a referral to the EWIS team (the talking therapy/counselling service locally) and the fact that my anxieties are still so wrapped up in the hangover of anorexia - and are "too complicated" for the weekly sessions with their team. Hence, being shipped back to Kinver.

It could be that I walk in the service today and they give me a thumbs up, check the medication is doing okay (I'm still not sure) and let me go. Or they get me talking, realise how much I hold my shit together, how much I cope with DESPITE the negative thoughts and rules I have. I guess you could call it 'functioning' or 'semi-recovered' - whichever, I am not fully recovered. I am aware of that.

I am not going back for a review with any of the team which treated me in the past, it's a psychiatrist I've not met properly before, which makes me feel a bit strange too. Maybe that's a good thing?

I have no idea what will happen or what they will say. But facts are facts, I left services knowing I had weight still to restore, reality is, my weight is less than May 2015. I left as a singleton, I am now in a relationship which throws loads of emotions into the mix which I have promised the boy I will get on top of so I can let him in more. I still have food rules, I still don't like social occasions much, I still have my own little controlled schedule which I struggle to cope with much change too. Yes, I get it - all these are issues. I am aware of that. But I am struggling to see how hearing someone at the EDU TELL me that, will make me change.

I will give it the benefit of the doubt, and I am writing this down to enable me to go in there with an open mind and honesty.

But it feels so weird, yet familiar to go back....which makes Ana pipe up telling me I LIKE that I am going back, that I somehow want to. So, that makes me MORE dubious that this is the right step back to swim forward. I don't want those thoughts any louder.

Stepping back, swimming forward

Not going backwards, but stepping back in to the eating disorder unit where four hard years were spent swimming through the waves of recovery.

That's what's happening this morning, and it feel rather strange.

The review has been triggered by starting on anti-anxiety medication, which meant a referral to the EWIS team (the talking therapy/counselling service locally) and the fact that my anxieties are still so wrapped up in the hangover of anorexia - and are "too complicated" for the weekly sessions with their team. Hence, being shipped back to Kinver.

It could be that I walk in the service today and they give me a thumbs up, check the medication is doing okay (I'm still not sure) and let me go. Or they get me talking, realise how much I hold my shit together, how much I cope with DESPITE the negative thoughts I have.

I am not going back for a review with any of the team which treated me in the past, it's a psychiatrist I've not met properly before, which makes me feel a bit strange too.

I have no idea what will happen or what they will say. But facts are facts, I left services knowing I had weight still to restore, reality is, my weight is less than May 2015. I left as a singleton, I am now in a relationship which throws loads of emotions into the mix which I have promised the boy I will get on top of so I can let him in more. I still have food rules, I still don't like social occasions much, I still have my own little controlled schedule which I struggle to cope with much change too. Yes, I get it - all these are issues. I am aware of that. But I am struggling to see how hearing someone at the EDU TELL me that, will make me change.

I will give it the benefit of the doubt, and I am writing this down to enable me to go in there with an open mind and honesty.

But it feels so weird, yet familiar to go back....which makes Ana pipe up telling me I LIKE that I am going back, that I somehow want to. So, that makes me MORE dubious that this is the right step back to swim forward. I don't want those thoughts any louder.

Riding the recovery waves

I'm here, I'm still here, swimming, promise.

A few people have messaged me asking if I was okay, seeing how the new meds were going, checking that I'm still swimming forward. Thank you for reaching out, all of you. I've been riding waves. 

I'm still swimming, I'm still staying afloat, but it's not been plain sailing. There have been some rough seas and I'm not quiet out of the riptide yet. I'm just thankful, I guess, that I have the strength and skills to keep my stroke going through this. Navigating each wave as it hits me. 

So, what's going on in these waters? 

Well, the first few weeks on the headmeds saw me up and down, feeling emotional and paranoid. I thought I'd made the wrong choice to be honest, should an anti-anxiety drug REALLY be making me worry MORE about what people thought of me? I thought not. However, 50 days in, and I seem to have gotten used to them. Although, I really don't feel much different. I am still worried about the same things, still not fully confident in embracing challenges to anorexic rules, still worried about gaining weight and still not able to relax. 

I went for a session at my local well-being clinic, for some counselling -  that was part of the deal at the Doctors. I get meds and a booster shot of 'How do you feel about that..." And to be honest, blah, they were honest, given the therapy I had at the EDU, there was VERY little they could help me with. I think the word was, "too complex" with anxiety still so connected with the hangover of anorexia, that I was too much for their little brains! So, here goes the referral BACK to EDU. Hmmm. 

That is where I am at. Waiting for my assessment back at the clinic I swore I'd never walk back into. With a psychiatrist I haven't seen before, but am aware of. It all feels a little strange. Weird because I don't feel like I need to go there. Yes, my weight is lower than when I was last there - but am I in the same place? No way. I have bought a house, kept up work, been in a relationship for almost a year and I have been running and not running in balance. Much better.

On the outside. On the inside, underwater, what thoughts often creep up? Well, I worry about my imperfections still, I don't like not planning my food, I very rarely eat out, I still haven't let the boyfriend cook me dinner, I still count calories and worry about over-eating. I don't like change and I don't like surprises. I still worry about what people think of me, still don't like my body. I can be too thin and too fat at the same time. All of the above. In waves.

And that is how I am 'ok' and not at the same time. I am not drowning in anyone of those thoughts. They are not always at the front of my mind, but they come and go in waves. Splashing me in the face and making my nose tingle like when I used to somersault in the water as a little girl. It's little reminders that I haven't fully stepped out of the ocean and on to the shore - however close I get, I just stay in here for one more minute. Just in case.

Maybe this time, a little more help - and my beach hut, warm towel and ice cream cone will be ready at the other side. And I'll walk in and enjoy it? 

Riding the recovery waves

I'm here, I'm still here, swimming, promise.

A few people have messaged me asking if I was okay, seeing how the new meds were going, checking that I'm still swimming forward. Thank you for reaching out, all of you. I've been riding waves. 

I'm still swimming, I'm still staying afloat, but it's not been plain sailing. There have been some rough seas and I'm not quiet out of the riptide yet. I'm just thankful, I guess, that I have the strength and skills to keep my stroke going through this. Navigating each wave as it hits me. 

So, what's going on in these waters? 

Well, the first few weeks on the headmeds saw me up and down, feeling emotional and paranoid. I thought I'd made the wrong choice to be honest, should an anti-anxiety drug REALLY be making me worry MORE about what people thought of me? I thought not. However, 50 days in, and I seem to have gotten used to them. Although, I really don't feel much different. I am still worried about the same things, still not fully confident in embracing challenges to anorexic rules, still worried about gaining weight and still not able to relax. 

I went for a session at my local well-being clinic, for some counselling -  that was part of the deal at the Doctors. I get meds and a booster shot of 'How do you feel about that..." And to be honest, blah, they were honest, given the therapy I had at the EDU, there was VERY little they could help me with. I think the word was, "too complex" with anxiety still so connected with the hangover of anorexia, that I was too much for their little brains! So, here goes the referral BACK to EDU. Hmmm. 

That is where I am at. Waiting for my assessment back at the clinic I swore I'd never walk back into. With a psychiatrist I haven't seen before, but am aware of. It all feels a little strange. Weird because I don't feel like I need to go there. Yes, my weight is lower than when I was last there - but am I in the same place? No way. I have bought a house, kept up work, been in a relationship for almost a year and I have been running and not running in balance. Much better.

On the outside. On the inside, underwater, what thoughts often creep up? Well, I worry about my imperfections still, I don't like not planning my food, I very rarely eat out, I still haven't let the boyfriend cook me dinner, I still count calories and worry about over-eating. I don't like change and I don't like surprises. I still worry about what people think of me, still don't like my body. I can be too thin and too fat at the same time. All of the above. In waves.

And that is how I am 'ok' and not at the same time. I am not drowning in anyone of those thoughts. They are not always at the front of my mind, but they come and go in waves. Splashing me in the face and making my nose tingle like when I used to somersault in the water as a little girl. It's little reminders that I haven't fully stepped out of the ocean and on to the shore - however close I get, I just stay in here for one more minute. Just in case.

Maybe this time, a little more help - and my beach hut, warm towel and ice cream cone will be ready at the other side. And I'll walk in and enjoy it? 

The drugs don't work...

...they just make you worse? Or do they?

Do they or don't they? Well, I've harked on about them not working for the last two decades. Adamant that I'd never pop a pill for helping take the edge off anxiety. That there was nothing I couldn't face with a positive mind and pushed on by a fear of failing. No, the latter isn't the most constructive coping strategy. 

But more recently I'm spending more time contemplating reaching for the medicine cabinet.

What I've started to realise in the year since leaving specialist treatment for anorexia is just how much anxiety still affects me. Even when I am in a great mood and things are going well, I worry, a lot. Whether it's about little things I've said or done at work, who I might have upset at home, whether I am a good enough girlfriend, sister, daughter. I get anxious at the thought of being 'too busy' and worry about wasting days and feeling lazy. Or more generally, I just worry about the future. The 'Big Picture'. 

It's not an unwillingness to change my mindset or embrace talking therapies, embracing EDU-specific CBT and Mindfulness saved my life after all. I understand my mental heath issues, the triggers and thanks to the said therapy,  I have the tools to get through life on a day-to-day basis. I've overcome the worse anorexia could throw at me. 

Sometimes though, it all still ticks away in my mind. Overthinking, worrying, stress, doubt, fear. About nothing and everything at the same time. Not in an overwhelming way, I don't have panic attacks anymore. I can control the waves of worry. But it's really fucking hard sometimes. Mrs W. used to say to me that some of my core beliefs are so tangled up and deep-rooted that she was worried about my ability to beat anorexia at all.

On the flip-side, I do worry that by going to the GP and talking through medication, I've somehow failed at therapy, that my therapists failed me, that it means I haven't tried enough to change. I also worry about a certain 'weight gain' side effect. But also more messed up. I am BAD at taking medication generally, like not starting a medication to help my period return that was given six (maybe nine) months ago. So will I ever actually take it? 

I just feel I am all-therapied-out through if I am honest. Like a friend who's going through something similar said to me, maybe it is down to chemistry now. So maybe accepting I need to pop a pill is worth a try? To take the edge off the anxiety - and maybe it's what's holding me back in full recovery?

While my head quietly spins

I used to suffer from panic attacks, the sort where my body trembled, I could focus on nothing bar the trigger of my panic, it was clear for all to see. I was the girl with anxiety issues and it was obvious. 

In social situations I'd either a) worry for months about going, then not go to avoid panicking or b) I'd go and have to hide or leave after not being able to control the anxiety spin. That was the story of my socialising experiences from the age of 7. Be a meal out, a day out, two-week holiday or a school trip. Of course, I learnt to cope or avoid from an early age, so actually, as much as I know life could have been MORE enjoyable, I'd not been a hermit! 

Things have changed now though. Thankfully, I've not had a full-blown panic attack for years, but that doesn't mean I panic though. I see 'getting though events' as a tick-box, despite craving the enjoyment and for good times to last. So, inside, I might not be filled with terror or paralysing fear of situations, I rarely am, but my GOD I worry.

Wow, do I worry. 

What's worse is I TRY to keep the worry in and cope. I try to be normal. But my head takes me somewhere else. It quietly spins. When most people are embracing the moment, I am worrying about the food I've eaten, what I look like, what I've said, what I am (and what I am not) how I come across. I compare myself to those around me, I envy people's calmness, their clothes, their skin and their lives. Don't tell me I should stop comparing. I know "comparison is the thief of joy..." and all that. 

So what am I trying to say, why does my head quietly spin? That I don't know. But what I do know is that I am REALLY guilty of taking it out on those closest to me. Projection, getting snappy because people can't sense my spinning. I think they should be mind readers, obviously. I wish I didn't do it, and then what's more, I wish I could explain. 

If anyone is the same as me, and has a fairly robust 'brave face' and can turn the confidence on, you'll know what I mean when I say it's sometimes harder than being an outwardly anxious (or avoider) type. It's like I let it all build up, going round and round and round my head then purge the emotions.

I find a quiet moment to try and explain to someone and CAN'T effectively do it, because I don't understand myself sometimes. Not only that, there are thoughts I don't WANT to explain sometimes. I realise this makes me really hard to be around sometimes, I hate it. It's about being in control, I know it is. It's about the fact that my insecurities eat me alive sometimes. It's about seeing myself though negative eyes still. 

Basically sometimes, instead of panic attacks these days, I just let my brain remind me of how I should be.  

Oh. My. Weight.

One of the HARDEST things about sharing my recovery openly is that a big part of it has never been open. Most people know what that part it and why it's the 'Great Unshared' of those in recovery.

Sometimes I just want to blurt it all out, why? Because NOT talking about it is exactly what anorexia wants. Whether that's the 'shame' the illness makes me feel for gaining - or the 'secret' happiness of it going down - or for me - the relief of it being EXACTLY the same. 

So, this morning was my monthly 'weigh in day'. Still a date with a big 'X' on my diary which plays on my mind, whether I like that or not. It's a morning I dread and over-think more than I probably should the night before. 

I don't have scales, I get myself out of bed early and go to the local leisure centre to use the digital scales (right outside the 0700am spin class and a bustling gym which makes me feel guilty for not being 'so dedicated to fitness. I'll touch on that soon!)

This morning was no different. Same clothes, same routine. Driving there my mind goes over the same thoughts as last month, and the month before that. I set the 'acceptable gain' I won't freak out about....I allow myself the sneaky excitement that it MIGHT have just gone down 'a little bit' and then the most comfortable thought. Just please be the same. 

I step on the digital scales, pop in my pound coin and '"stay still and stand upright" while the machine measures my height and weight. I don't even look at the screen to see. I wait for the print out instead. I hold on to the handles and measure my body fat, even though I have no faith in what that ACTUALLY measures (I always think maybe it'd have a true reading if it could measure the fat somewhere else. Like my stomach not my fingers?)  

Let me put this next bit in context. **Don't read this paragraph if you're easily triggered. I am just being honest** For the last couple of months I have tracked my intake roughly - and generally day-to-day I don't reach 2000 calories, despite knowing I should be, and not being far off, it's not 2000. For those of you who want to know...it's probably 1600-ish. So, if I am NOT at the 'ideal' recovery weight, and I'm under-eating on a daily basis, and doing about two days of exercise a week (one run and one HIIT/Circuit session) my head is jumbled with thoughts as to why I have gained weight. A little more context. 

Anyone well into their recovery or battling on from a relapse will know what I mean when I explain that it's not like the SCREAMS of anorexia when you first start WR, it's more a mix of a thousand-and-one questions as to WHY it's gone up, just wanting answers. Of course, I know it's anorexia asking them. I also have to consciously remind myself I am still slightly short of where I was when I was discharged - and even then I had a couple of kilos to go to hit the 'ideal' initial WR target. Want a little more context? I'm talking about 0.3kg, a POUND. That's anorexia's magic, all those questions, over 1lb. It makes me analyse what I have done to 'deserve' the gain. 

I don't want lie or hold back but know to protect other people in recovery - I do. It also helps to avoid having to explain myself to people who don't get why this is still an issue a year after discharge and almost five years after stating treatment. But it is. 

So I will have to end this here. A pound. 

Solid rock or stuck in sinking sand?

Oh, yes, getting stuck in the sands of a 'safe' a common place in recovery, isn't it? But me? Stuck? No, surely not. I'm living on a solid rock aren't I? I am not like other people stuck in a half-way-house form of an eating disorder built on a not-so-solid foundation? I don't define myself as so, at least, so that makes me different. Well, en contraire. 

Before, I get started on the sand it appears I'm stuck living on now, let me take you back a couple of years, when I wrote this in a post about trying to fit life into the 'neat little boxes' of anorexia. 

"I can't fit, and will never be able to fit this stuff, new foods, new people, new experiences in to THIS life. They will never fit in to anorexia’s routine, rules or plan for me." - Me, January 2013

Right, so where have I built my house (or life) and why is it bothering me? Firstly, I'm stuck where I was when I was discharged this time last year I guess. When Dr B. signed me off, I KNEW I had work to do. I'm able to get by in life, I can work, workout, run and play. To an extent. I have lost weight since I left there too, something I'm probably too blase about to be honest. I knew I had physical 'work' to do to finish of weight restoration, it's obvious I haven't done that. But I am not sure why. I also had mental work to do, continuing the work we did in therapy/mindfulness about not believing the negative self-talk and reminding myself that, well, stuck is not safe. I promised myself I'd make plans to move house. 

But that's not going well. Yes, I'm safe-ish, but I'm also stuck on where I started putting the bricks.  I also knocked some of the walls I built with help down and now need to redo that work too. How do I know that? Well, for a couple of reasons, they might sound familiar 

1) The 'don't like/won't eat/want to eat' list 

Who knows what I do, don't or won't eat any more. What I liked pre-anorexia - I probably only eat 10 per cent of now. What I ate during treatment when working with Ms F - I probably only eat half of now. In conversations with C (the other half) over the last seven months, I've tried to justify and tell him there are foods I 'don't' like - when really, deep down, it's not that I don't like them - it's that I don't eat them. Because it freak anorexia the fuck out and I know it. So it's AVOIDANCE and I know it is. This is such an obvious sign on being stuck at a certain point in recovery. My biggest problem here is, that I've been stuck with these food rules for so long, I don't know HOW to move - or believe fully that I can. It IS restrictive and what's worse is, I know it. 

2) The same old routine.

That brings me to routine. Get up, eat the same breakfast, go to work, go home to the house built on sand, eat, bed. That's generally what I do, unless it's one of the days when I run or got to circuit training. Occasionally I do something different, when the boy comes over, or a friend wants to. But I have the daily pull back to my routine. Anything outside of that causes an internal niggling anxiety. I worry about when I will eat, what I will eat, whether I may or may not like doing what is planned. I CRAVE my normal when I'm not in it. 

3) Counting numbers. Worrying about numbers. 

With this I mean two sets of numbers, on a monthly basis, my weight. I still BLAME myself if my weight has gone up - like today - and just accept if it has gone down. But this also ties into the fact that I KNOW I haven't eaten more than standard RDA of calories EVERYDAY or always actively replaced the calories I have burned on runs etc.. So something must be 'wrong' with me to gain weight? So, there are the other numbers. Calories. I know roughly how many I eat a day, and when I know I have gone OVER that, I still feel greedy, glutinous and 'wrong'. 

4) Sitting still guilt

It's not that I run or workout to 'earn' food, but I'd be lying to myself or you if I said that it doesn't make life a little easier when I have. Like I can justify food or doing something for myself. I feel like self-hate or less self concious once I have exercised. It IS a self-esteem boost, so that's where this one gets complicated, because science will tell us that working out raises endorphins in anyone. 

5) Checking myself out

Body checking. Body image. Mirror work. Something we actually never got round to during treatment. Yes, really, they skipped this bit, but I wish thy hadn't. Partly because Mrs W. left before we got on to it, then Dr B's work with me took a different direction which uncovered more issues. But anyway, what this means is I still really don't like my body. I don't like bones, I don't like my 'fat bits' I don't like my bloated stomach and I micro analyse body parts too much. I get frustrated when people say my arms are still too thin, I don't like catching my reflection in the mirror at circuits and I am still very. very self concious when in the buff with C. I sway between NOT wanting to change my current body at all, wishing my imperfections weren't there and also looking fitter, more womanly and getting my boobs back. Like with food, I've forgotten what I ACTUALLY want. 

I haven't built my recovery on a completely unsustainable surface, I was lucky to get the help I did, but that doesn't mean I couldn't be on terra-firma though. I KNOW there is a firmer ground, a more solid place to lay down my roots, a place where other people will want to come to see me in, rather than on the sand. But for some reason I am struggling to move houses, and I am not sure why. Maybe because anorexia has convinced me it's a nicer house on the sand, with sea views? But that ocean is the one I swam not to die from this illness. So, would I ever jump back in fully? Not a chance, so why do I still need to look at it everyday?

In Sickness and in (less) Health

Well, when I say in health, I sort of mean less health, more illness. 

Since the start of the year I've been getting a cough and cold and feeling totally exhausted and wiped-out more that I ever have, well, at least in a very long time. But why?

If I take a moment for a reality check, I'll tell you where my finger points. My weight?

It can't be complete coincidence that since Autumn my weight dropped and THEN I started getting viruses can it? That my weight dropped and I ended up needing an ambulance at work is it? As much as part of my head (the anorexic part) thinks all this is a load of BS. I need to get a grip here.

I DESPISE being ill. I mean, sickness, obviously with emetophobia, but generally feeling under-the-weather or having coughs and colds really increases my anxiety. Therefore, I've always been thankful that I've never been that prone to picking up bugs. Until now. 

It's one thing after another, and I know there are loads of nasty ones around this Winter. Not the type that knock you off your feet for a week viruses, but the lingering type, which strike when you've had a few nights bad sleep or a rough day. Yep, those. 

Well, I am ill again and it's got me thinking. I get PLENTY of fruit and vegetables in, I take my vits etc, I am obsessed with my hand sanitiser and cleaning down my desk. So, it must be my body, unable to fight things off as well as it used to. 

I resent being ill. Like really hate it. Because I can't explain or manage my anxiety well when I feel like this either, I just want to be alone. It's like I am disgusted at being ill and scared that I'll pass it on - or that I will get more ill if someone is here. So, I stay alone THEN get anxious that I am alone and feel really vulnerable and lonely. 

I guess I need to find a way to restore some weight soon, like five kilos. Because I want to have the health to get my trainers back on, because running has been hard since my chesty cough, and because I just need to NOT get ill this much. But seriously, I am not sure HOW to do that anymore. 

It's a bitter pill (or Lemsip) to swallow but I need to if I am going to be fully well at some point this year. I've got to do it somehow. Because if I got something like a serious tummy bug (worst.fear.ever) I'd end up in hospital, because my weight would drop from the fear of eating. 

I am leaving myself vulnerable and open to more illness and less health if I don't. And I know it. 

Retreating to my bubble

It's hard to explain to other people, but sometimes I just need to retreat into a bubble, garden, space or place and switch off for a while. Not to sit and mope or get lost in my own head, but just do nothing, say nothing, be alone. Switch off. Recharge. 

Some will argue it's running away from the world, to avoid facing up to situations or conversations you'd rather not have. But I'm starting to realise it's not running away, it's just taking time to retreat a bit. But is that okay?

It's like I just need to function in my own world, on my agenda and not have to think past that sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I don't want this all the time and I don't want to shut people out from my world completely, that's not what I mean. I don't particularly like being alone, I get bored and feel lazy and miss people. But hear me out on this, you might feel it too. 

I know recovery has made me more selfish. But I see it as a positive, we have to be selfish to reclaim our lives from anorexia. It has made me more headstrong in what I do and don't like and how I choose to spend my days. In the past I spent far too long doing things I didn't REALLY want to socially, exercising when anorexia was driving it, and enduring situations I wished I wasn't in. I now know what I want to do now, and my God, I will (or will not!) do it.

I don't want to upset people around me by having this need to retreat to a bubble, but I do worry that it frustrates or annoys them. I accept some family and friends will never understand it (I am lucky my best friend complete gets it and feels the same herself). She explained it as needing to be alone to recharge, where some people need to be around people to do that - we need space. But it doesn't stop me over-analysing it like I am now, because I worry about others. I will always worry. I also think people take it personally sometimes, or think they know better about what's best for me. Generally, they're wrong. I am not being mardy, depressive or selfish. I just need to do my own thing.

And the times they're right? The times it would be better to be around people even if I'm apprehensive?  I am generally aware of it too,  know it's only anxiety or anorexia holding me back and know deep down it's for the best. That's when I pop my own bubble and leave my retreat. 

I'll be honest, some of it is because it's easier to be alone sometimes, because being around people means I have to explain why I still have certain rules or behaviours that are blatantly anorexic. It means that I have to fully understand why they're there too, and I don't. It's sometimes because I am just too anxious about life. Or my self esteem is so low that I think people wouldn't like to be around me anyway. Or it's just a case of control. If I am on my own, I can just function on my own agenda, in my own way. When I retreat I just function in a routine which needs no thought. It's a little bit of tranquillity from constantly trying to set a new order or agenda to make sense of a world I still get worried about.

I also still struggle to switch off, whether it be from work or just generally relax. There is always something on my mind, generally higher level of anxiety than most. But I find other people don't always help ease it, mainly because I get the urge to talk about what's going on in my mind, I tie myself up in knots and then feel worse. I feel like I have been over-doing leaving the bubble when I could do with staying in it, because I've felt I 'should' or actually the bubble annoys me and maybe that's why I've felt run-down?

Basically, sometimes, generally, my mind needs to retreat and can only function in my bubble. 

The downs and ups of life and scales

Or should I be more honest, and say the downs?  Yes, Let's go with that for now. Not downs, as in emotionally, but downs, drops, falls in weight. 

Let me set the scene again, I stopped seeing my dietician Ms. F more than 18 months ago now, I left the eating disorders unit a year later, back in May 2015. Fully discharged after three months of step-down sessions. Back in 2011 when I was admitted in a blur of anorexia, and started the long, long road of recovery, a target weight of 60-odd kilos was floated around, knowing realistically, ideally in their eyes it'd be a bit more.

The bit between August '11 and now is pretty much what this blog is. Let's not go over and over all that and let's fast forward to now shall we?  

When I left the EDU and waved farewell to Dr. B we put plans in place for monitoring my weight, without falling down the trap of getting scales at home. That's been successful and works for me. Once a month I get up and go to the leisure centre and jump on the public scales. Yes, there is still a routine there, I won't eat before hand, I do wear the same outfit and it plays on my mind the week and days before, but it doesn't consume me. 

But it's when we dig down to the facts, numbers, digits and what that means to me, it's where it's less clear than the routine I've now established to gain them.

When I last stepped on the scales at Kinver, my weight wasn't 'quite' where they would have liked it. I stepped off and was very blase with Dr B about being able to push on, fully recover and do the last bit myself. Not blase in a 'I'll get away with anything I want' rebellious, let anorexia takeover way - I don't want that. But more-so in a 'it doesn't matter...it'll happen as life happens' sort of way. Quite frankly, I didn't care. But also had a niggle of 'I'm fine at this weight thank you...' For now at least.

But that's the thing. I was fine at that weight, but I'm no longer that weight. 

It's lower. Whether I like it or not, whether it's intentional or not, whether I think I look it or not, whether I feel it or not. It is lower. 

Now, it's NOT been intentional, but I'm not kidding myself, I feel better about it being lower, than I know I would if it had gone UP the same amount. I haven't consciously sat down, colluded with anorexia and had an urge to LOSE weight. At all. That much I know. But that's also dangerous, because I can quite happily live like that, because I don't feel restrictive and restricted. 

Do I like it? I don't like the fact that I know other people will judge me, and whether they are honest to my face about it. It's just easier to swallow than gains. 

As for thinking I look and feel five kilos lighter than a year ago? Not. a. Chance. 

I just don't, In fact, over Christmas my weight went down slightly again, a few grammes, but still down. But I spent some of December feeling the old, greedy, gluttonous, unhealthy, piggy thoughts. But it was down. Do I BELIEVE the number. Well I am not blind I can SEE a lower number on my little print out, I know the digits are fewer than the ones in November. I get it. But I also don't. 

I have always fallen into the trap that I think LOWER weigh-ins are the anomalies, this has been the case throughout recovery. Gains felt forever, losses felt temporary. I still have this mindset about  my weight and that's how I've wound up here I think. Every month I've told myself it wouldn't be the case next month, so I just carried on the same. Not restricting more, not counting calories any more closely, not eating more, not reducing exercise, but also not increasing it. I KNOW there are things Ms F. and I worked hard to put back in my diet, which since leaving I've not eaten in a 'no big deal' way, I am aware this is how it's dropped. That's were I'm realistic in how recovered I am.

Every month just believing because I DON'T FEEL or SEE anything BETTER or THINNER or LIGHTER in the mirror, because I don't feel any different in my own skin, or feel any more comfortable in my own skin. 

I've just carried on as I was - not trapped, clinging on to ED, but not massively challenging or moving any further away either. Just generally keeping things the same. 

But if we take the cold hard numbers. They are down. I'm not out, but they are down. But the thing is now, what am I going to do about it? Hm.