When did everything so wrong, suddenly become so right??

Today I've had a revelation. I finished school at lunch time, and I went to Costa with a good friend of mine, Candy, who has been on holiday for several months. We got talking about another friend who was referred to CAMHS for anxiety, several months ago. Candy tells me that she was also going to go to CAMHS in year ten, and when I ask why she tells me that her mother is bipolar. This is SHOCKING news to me. It really goes to show that however much you think you know about someone, you never know everything about them.
We started talking about weight and she told me she had tried to make herself sick in the past but she'd never been able to. Candy talks in such a light hearted, humorous manner about it all, that I struggle to comprehend how a beautiful girl who has a bipolar mother, is so strong and powerful. She doesn't love herself though, and that's sad because she doesn't realise how beautiful she is inside and out. Something interesting that Candy mentioned to me is that she has never properly fallen for anyone, and she does not want to be in a relationship. She said to me "How can I expect other people to love me, and look at my body, when I do not love myself, and I do not like how I look". Possibly the most truest thing I've ever heard. Candy also told me about how her mother has been admitted to hospital several times, which fascinated me. She said that when she gets on a high its the worst, and when her mother plays music really loud and stops sleeping, Candy knows that thing are getting bad. This also fascinated me, that loud music has become some sort of warning sign for Candy.

Its strange having someone so perfect tell you their heart saddening life story. She is so perfect and she doesn't see it, but I can't persuade her otherwise and I won't try because everything that she is going through- when she tells me that if she could be anorexic she would, when she tells me that she walks into zara and it kills her a little bit that she can't put together the beautiful clothing to make a piece of artwork on her body because she just isn't good enough body wise- I can relate to it all in a sick, twisted warped way.


When did everything so wrong, suddenly become so right??

I've been thinking about suicide recently. Not about actually doing it ( I am in a much much better place then I was in the spring time), but just about the concept itself. Like today for instance when I was queuing up for my drink and I handed the woman my Costa card, I thought to myself, if I ever did try to kill myself again I would make sure that I spend all of my points on my costa card before I do it, otherwise it will be a waste of me having used it a million times and collecting all those points, just to die in the end. And also I would do weird things like cut off all my hair, and have a wild time with my friends before I went. And go on a country walk with my mother and sit on my sisters bed and laugh with her about nothing in particular. I need to stop talking like this, its sickening. Apart from these musing thoughts, the medication is going well. I am going back to CAMHS in two days, to discuss my meeting at the Maudsley. I think they were quite shocked that the Maudsley put me on tablets as well, and the mental health nurse that I see at CAMHS told me to remove all the tablets in my house when I first went to see her, and was also trying to keep me away from using any medication just in case I OD, so I do not think they will be happy about this.


I will keep Candy in my heart forever, and she will always be my friend, even if our lives force us into inevitable, separate paths. I'm so glad we opened up to each other...better late than never as they say.

She is so strong, I have the most admiration for her.

A rant about the past week

There is so much to say, yet I don't really know how to say it all. Earlier this week I visited the Maudsley Hospital (which I will later post about). It went much better than I thought it would, and the staff there decided that it would be best if I went on medication for a period of time to help with my anxiety and depression, although they did not seem concerned with my bulimia, they were very helpful and said that if I had an 'niggling questions' I could easily talk to a specialist about it. I am also going to be talking to a dietdican which I am thrilled with...I really am willing to do anything to get to a comfortable healthy weight.

Taking my tablets posed as a serious problem on what would have been day one, (Wednesday) because the pharmacist gave me the wrong tablets!!! I had a fear this may happen after reading 'Anorexic mummy' blog on how she was given the wrong medication. Luckily my mother read the leaflet with the tablets that came with it, and realised that they were the wrong tablets after reading several symptoms that did not confer with the side affects of the tablets I was prescribed. It even said that the tablets can cause acute liver failure, if they are missused! After screaming and shouting at the pharmacist, my mum was finally given the correct tablets, and I began using them on the Thursday. I was unfortunately looking at a university open day on Thursday, and so I felt sick and nauseous the whole day. Friday was a lot better, with little to no side effects, although I have to admit that I did have terrible nightmares that night about my sister (whose 13th birthday was also yesterday!!) becoming psychotic. It was a very disturbing nightmare, and I really hope it doesn't occur again.

Today is Saturday and I am feeling slightly down. However I account this to the fact that I am two weeks behind on all of my homework, and I could go out tonight but I don't know what to wear, and I just feel fat fat fat today. This makes me feel guilty, because I do want to go out and I know I would have fun, however I  am not suppose to drink alcohol with this medication, and that was a warning point heavily emphasised on the leaflet that came with the tablets, and also I have no idea what to wear. I know people say you don't need alcohol to have a good time, but from a 17 years olds perspective, I have to disagree.

I thought writing down my problems would make me feel more at ease but I still feel tense and not happy. I think the best option is to just get cracking with my homework, however much I hate it!!!

In other news, I have also been predicted my grades for uni. For Photography I have been predicted a B (I got a B last time), for Psychology I have been predicted an A (I got an A last time as well), and for Philosophy and Ethics I have been predicted a B (I received a B in philosophy and a D in Ethics, last year which rounded to an overall C, but I am retaking ethics to boost it up a couple of grades, so that my overall mark at the end of the year will be a higher).So I have been predicted A,B,B. However to get into the universities I have been looking at, I need at least AAB, which means I am going to have to persuade either philosophy and ethics or photography to boost my predicted grade up to an A.
In the end though I would like to get three A's or an A* in psychology and two A's. I am willing to work hard for it, even if its not showing just yet!!!

Recalling my summer

The air is still and lifeless today, and I have that 'sunday feeling' of slight dread for what tomorrow will bring. I am angry that I am going to the Maudsley soon. It has forced me to confront my issues again, which were perfectly happy sitting there at the back of my mind as an unwrapped present.
I have been on a real high recently. The summer was great for me. I went to Turkey for two weeks, and I had the confidence to wear a swimsuit despite weighing a stone more than my holiday I took last year (where I covered up in knee length shorts and a top). I think it helped that there weren't any other English families staying in the same hotel as us. I only tried to make myself sick once, for which I failed miserable at, and  was rewarded with heart palpitations. I did storm off one night at dinner when my family were making me angry, and I locked myself in one of the toilets in the communal bathroom, but I had the decency not to make myself sick because I was conscious that other people would hear and that I had just touched the door handle which would have contained a feast of germs and bacteria, and I wasn't going to be foolish enough to stick my finger down my throat after touching that.
Sometimes I think I would be sick so much more if it didn't actually involve me having to stick my throat down my fingers and go through that length process. And I would certainly do it more if my being sick was soundless.
After Turkey, I went to Reading Festival for three days and four nights. It was stressful to begin with, as the travelling was strenuous and tiring, and my friend was aggravating me. I also got trampled on in the first music act that I went to see (Crystal castles), which left me feeling shaky and wanting to go home. I did enjoy myself overall though, and I definitely recommend that everybody should have the experience of a festival just once in their life, but I don't know if I will do it again. Whilst eating and my weight was not that much of an issue to me on holiday, I certainly did feel that I stuck out like a sore thumb at Reading with everybody in their short shorts, whilst I wore long dresses and leggings with dresses. If I went again I would have to be thin to properly enjoy myself. I did take a gleeful satisfaction from eating the bare minimum at reading, and I kept thinking to myself how nice it would be to eat as little as this in my day to day life, and yet not feel hungry. I brought a huge bag of food along with us, but my friend ended up eating all of it, which annoyed me to no end because I had paid for it, but also pleased me that I had resisted.
Coming back to school this year has been 10x better than last year, so I have been on a high from that as well. For a start, I have a solid group of friends now, whom I love and who love me, where as last year I was starting new and I didn't know a single person. I also feel more confident to talk to random people, and I have managed to portray more of the real me, the loud, funny self that I kept hidden for so long at that school.
The work load has intensified without hesitation, and it's only the first full week back. I'm struggling to do it all, despite forcing myself to stay behind after school to complete it, (although so far this has proved futile, as  I am doing more talking than working!)...But all in all everything has been great. Also, GREAT news...I have started the GYM!!!! I went for a trial induction before my trip to Turkey, but due to the holiday, Reading Festival and then getting ill, I have only been able to start officially last week. I decided to let the woman weigh me, which is a very big ordeal considering that I NEVER let anybody know my weight and have always refused at the doctors and the asthma clinic, although it is vital for them to know. She told me that I was categorically obese, which I knew already from doing my BMI on the internet. I find this slightly ironic that an obese girl is going to an eating disorder hospital. Anyways it has made me determined to get down to my goal weight which is nine stone, and so far I am quite away off from that. I wonder what my family and friends would say if they knew that I was categorically obese? They would probably laugh. I don't think people would know, on observing me, because I do actually have quite a slim waist and I am tall, but its obvious to see that I am definitely overweight.

I do not want to let this Maudsley appointment shatter my happiness, so I will be strong and tough it out. Its only for three hours, and then hopefully I will never have to visit that place again.
Is it strange (and slightly twisted) that I would be happy to go there if I was shockingly thin, and people genuinely thought I was ill, rather than being the larger than life girl that I actually am.

Inspired to write again

My visit to the Maudsley hospital, which will be commencing next week, prompted me to revisit my old blog and my old demons.

Whilst googling the hospital I stumbled across a blog entitled 'Anorexic Mummy', which is a blog that has been written over the course of three years, documenting the life and the ordeal of a mother having to watch her child battle anorexia. 

I found the blog so inspiring that I decided to re visit this blog which I have not seen in years. 

I am kind of afraid to read what the old, slimmer me, use to think and say and write. I decided to just write this new blog on the spur of the moment, and not get caught up in reading my old posts (the very few I have) which might stop myself from writing down what I feel now, in this moment. I feel like I am changing all the time. How can I be sure of who I am? How can I be sure of what is up and down, what is wrong and right, why I have a burning and unrelenting desire to be thin?

The maudsley hospital will not be a pleasant experience. I do not want to wait in the waiting room, with my overweight body next to girls who are on the doorstep of death. I do not want to be recorded and watched on camera. Didn't anyone ever tell them that the camera adds ten pounds? That's hardly going to go down well with eating disordered patients now is it!? I do not want to sit in the room, with top psychologists who have given up there time, and have been paid by the NHS to see me. Silly old me, who forgot what is real and what isn't. I don't feel justified to take this valuable session, that would probably be snatched up by ten other girls in a heartbeat, who are in a far worse condition than I am in. 

When I say in a worse condition, I do not mean to imply that my condition is bad. It is not. I make myself sick occasionally and that is that. I do not personally think it is bad, although I can see the devastating effects it has had on others, and I realise that it is not healthy or in any way good. But it makes me feel better and at the end of it all, isn't that what we all want? To just feel better, when the black hole in your life grows bigger and seems to suck you in further. 

The only problem that I feel needs thoroughly addressing, is not this so called eating disorder that they claim I have, when realistically I don't (making yourself sick on the odd occasion, doesn't count). It is my anxiety and paranoia that is the real issue at hand. 

Today I visited Nottingham university, and it was so so so beautiful. The grade requirements are AAB, and I am hoping that I will be able to go there to study Psychology next year if they let me in and I decide that Nottingham is the right path for me. Today whilst I was there, I started to have a panic attack. I also got one a couple of days ago when I visited Kent university and had to sit in a lecture. The fear comes from having to sit with crowds of people in uncomfortable situations...I just don't like it to the extent that I fear and avoid it. 

I ran out crying at Kent, which was rather embarrassing as I hate showing emotion around others, (which is a pointless thing to hate, seeing as I am the most emotional person on this earth) and I just couldn't stop the feeling of death that embraced me with the panic attack. 

I tried explaining this to my mother when she quizzed me on it later on in the day, but I could tell that the concept of death in what she perceived to be a relaxed situation, was lost on her. 

I can't cry at the Maudsley hospital, I just can't but I know I will. I won't cry when they ask me about the Bulimia side of it, because that is something detached and emotionless to me. But when they ask about my thoughts, how I feel that I have to do certain rituals just so that my day will be good or it will stop something bad from happening, or the fact that I am always afraid to bump into people I know/use to know because I have an intense fear that they will judge me on the way I look and how much weight I have gained since last seeing them, or the scary fact that I always feel that somebody I know is watching me from afar everywhere I go, and the horrible gut-wretched, stomach turmoil feeling I get when I have to leave the house....these discussions are what will set me off into a state of hysterical sobs. 

I'm wondering if I have slight schizophrenia? It is most likely that I am I talking nonsense, its just my thought pattern is a little disturbed. And when I try to explain it to my mother she cannot grasp at the fact that I am not in control of my thoughts. She tells me over and over again that I control them. This makes me think though that our brains work differently, and that maybe she is normal and I am not. I can't stop my thoughts creeping in slowly and flashing there like a neon sign, urging me to listen even when I try not to. My mother can't understand this though. 

I realise that nobody will probably read this post, and that is okay with me. I think it will just be nice for me to be able to look back in a couple of years, and know the kind of person that I am in this present time. 

If somebody is reading this though, please comment. I would be really interested to hear your perspective on things. 

I may write again another day to update my blog on how the Maudsley hospital went. I wouldn't even mind going if I looked thin, but I don't, I look grotesquely overweight which is because I am. Maybe one day my BMI will enter the healthy stage again, rather than maintaining in the depressing overweight category. 

Bye x