Saturday, 26 July 2014

Existing is Exhausting

The clinic where I see my team moved to a new building two weeks ago. Just a couple of blocks down the road from the old building. I've already been there seven times. I don't know if I like it; it's too big and open and new. I've been going to the same clinic since birth, and suddenly, it doesn't feel like a safe place anymore.

Everything's still getting sorted out and moved around, and this week the dietician had a new addition to her office - a set of those old manual sliding bar scales. She wasn't too impressed, nor was I, and she's determined to get the other scales back. Previously, we've always used shiny new digital scales with the display separate from the actual scales (perfect for blind weighing), which seem to've found a new, slightly inconvenient home in the nurse's room on the other side of the building.

I really didn't want to get on a different set of scales. It'd been a hard morning and the last thing I needed was the upset of a false gain. Being me, I asked if she could weigh me on both sets and note the difference, and then we could just use the manual ones next time. On the digital scales, my weight dropped after two weeks of not moving, and the manual scales read 0.5kg off. Good to know.

In the apathy of depression, I've been skipping a lot of meals, losing a lot of structure. There were two nights last week I decided an orange would be the easiest option for dinner, and I only had breakfast twice. She asked if I've been drinking Ensure and I haven't, but I've been trying to have things like smoothies (120), hot Milo (110), iced coffee (55), to keep my blood sugars up if I'm not eating for that meal, but even they're a challenge when I'd rather just skip it. She wants me to focus on keeping the structure of three meals a day, even if it's just a liquid or a small piece of fruit.

I'd gone in with a red puffy face and held back tears as best I could. I nearly didn't get to the appointment because I just didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to, still want to, cancel all of my appointments and wallow. But without them there wouldn't be much left to hold on to. Appointments and blogging are really the only things I have left in these empty days.

When she asked how the appointment with my GP went last week, I cracked and started crying. I word-vomited about the anti-depressants and BPD and how everything felt hopeless, then felt horrible for doing so. I kept apologizing, saying I was sorry but everything just felt so hopeless. It's not a chemical imbalance or a situational depression, I am the problem. She said she'll talk to my GP and get an update on how things are going, but I just felt awful for dumping it all on her.

On Thursday night I ended up at the clinic at 6pm and spent an hour getting fourteen stitches in my leg. I'd tried so hard not to cut, but by the end of the day I just lost it. My adventure for the week; mum didn't have her car so we had to catch a taxi the whole three blocks there (thankfully my brother finished work in time to pick us up after). It was nerve-racking. I haven't gotten into a taxi in years.

It was a GP who I saw for a few months before I met my lovely GP, and I was a bit nervous about seeing her again as she's said a barrage of hurtful things in the past, but she was actually quite wonderful this time. I'm finding that some of the GPs I've clashed with in the past, mostly due to them not knowing much about anorexia or mental illness in general, are still kind, caring, competent doctors in other fields. 

I have to go back on Monday to get the dressing changed and check for infection, and then on Friday I have an appointment to get the stitches out and get my GP to check my lungs quickly. The excitement never ends. 

Now I'm just sitting here thinking; what the hell happened? I hadn't cut for years, and in the past few months it's all come back. My life is a cycle of alternative methods and risk minimization. I think the cutting started up again because there was concern building about my recent head hitting. I've gone through nearly every self-harm method in the book over the years, but I genuinely thought cutting's one I'd left behind.

Billy: He's getting older, and for the first time he's really feeling the cold this winter. Last week, mum took him to the pet store and found him a nice warm coat. He's spending most of the day bundled up under blankets with me on my armchair or the couch. If I'm crying, no matter where in the house I am, he comes and finds me and curls up next to me. My little shadow.

Sorry I've not been commenting as much lately, but I'm always reading. I'll try to catch up over the next few days. And thank you to all of you for sticking with me through all this crap. You guys are incredible and keep me going, seriously. 

*sends out rays of love and hugs and unicorn farts*



  1. I'm thinking of you love. My mom was just diagnosed with BPD so I can understand from a family member perspective of the disorder. You've had a lot going on right now and I don't have any words of wisdom but I want you to know that I love you and I'm hear for you beautiful.

  2. Sorry about all of the appointments and fear and not wanting to talk. I understand that feeling of just wanting to stay in your house where your safe and can ignore the world. But it's also a good thing you made it to your appointments. You never know, one day you may find hope, and find a solution to all of your problems. I know it seems totally hopeless and all that shit, but stick in there, or maybe just one good thing will cheer you up & it will be worth fighting for. You never know what will happen in life or what or who may come along.

    BTW: your dog is soooooo stinkin cute. I wanna cuddle him! Isn't it amazing how loyal they are? They just always want to make you happy and be your friend, no matter what you do or say or how you feel, they love unconditionally. Sometimes when I cry or I'm sad, my dog looks really sad too and licks the tears off my cheeks, might sound gross, but I know it's because he wants to make me happy & most of the time it does cheer me up. : )

    Always love reading your posts, whether good or bad, love hearing about your days. Hope you cheer up & start feeling better love<3

  3. I don't like the sliding scales or digitals. I prefer the traditional ones :P
    I'm sorry that you don't want to talk. Maybe you can communicate through writing with your doctors/dieticians?
    You don't have to feel awful. It's better than keeping it all inside.
    Ouch. I've never had stitches. I guess everyone has their strengths? They just may not know how to deal with mental illnesses. What's a GP?
    Your dog is so cute >_<
    *returns hug*
    I hope you feel better. I'll miss you! I'll still read whenever I can!


  4. I've struggled a lot with thinking about BPD like that. But no one wants to feel like this. No one asks for it. It's a "personality" disorder, yes, but it doesn't mean you're inherently broken. It means shitty things happened in your life probably quite young and parts of your self fragmented and your mind had to do everything it could to cope and survive... things that you needed to protect yourself from the really terrifying shit. Bpd isn't a life sentence. You can recover from it. But you need to be able to feel (and be) safe first before you can really start to give up the negative things that help u cope. I guess what I want to say is be gentle with yourself. I loves you loads. And thanks as usual for your comments and encouragements. xo

  5. Ah, the never ending waltz of diagnoses. I've been tried for BPD, ADHD and everything else in the big blue book (they are blue in Sweden) before they settled for Asperger and PTSD and GAD. I just sort of shrug and take the pills they prescribe me and go through life like a zombie. But I stopped taking the anti-psychotics anyway, and I am already feeling... different? Better? Let's settle for different.

    BPD, or any other diagnosis, doesn't mean you are broken or defect. It just means you are slightly different from what SOCIETY has deemed *normal*. And considering how society looks, well, I'm not sure I want to be *normal*. Not if it costs me my soul, my true being, which isn't normal by any standards.

  6. Hugs honey, you're strong and cursum has a point, it seems that addiction and selfishness has become normal... no one wants that. I've known BPDs also and I would say also that it means slightly different and usually it translates as more caring, more kind and more loyal friend than anyone considered normal.
    Love you xx

  7. oh honey.. I wish I had something smart to say, but I don't.. Just know that I have you in my thoughts *hugs*

  8. Hey, lung buddy. :)

    I know I'm telling you things you already know but, if you smoke, quitting smoking is going to be so good for you. I'm quitting at the moment and it's really, really freakin' hard but I already feel a little better.

    If you ever need someone to talk to you know where I am.

    Nina x

  9. Bella- I'm a first time reader. Found your post when I did a search for 'existing is exhausting'. That's how I feel. Just got into a huge fight with my bf of three years because I "don't contribute".

    I have struggled with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember. I was diagnosed with BPD ten years ago but was then told by someone else that I don't exhibit the signs. Also diagnosed with PTSD.

    Every day is a struggle both physically and emotionally for me. I'm not normal and I really want to be. I just want to be able to function in life. Instead, I exist. I literally sit in bed all day, all night. I haven't the energy for anything. Even to take care of my basic needs- like eating. Those things just... don't matter. For that matter, neither does anything else.

    I wanted to say thank you for your post. It does help sometimes to know I'm not the only one. My family always tells me that I'm beautiful and smart with so much to offer. I don't feel like I have anything to offer anyone. And my relationships are my proof. I have no friends and my bf's always leave (usually only emotionally and then I leave physically). I always feel alone. It's good to know that people out there are like me. Though I wish no one had to feel like this.

    Anyway, thank you again for sharing you innermost feelings.