Piercings and Pills

So, on Friday I got my first piercing in nearly three years. 

My piercers are currently relocating one of their studios. Unfortunately for me, it's their quieter studio. Their main studio is far too busy, and even the quieter one has been too daunting when it comes to my agoraphobia in recent years, but with it's upcoming closure, I felt it was my 'last chance' to get a piercing.

Mum had kept asking if I wanted to go for a cuppa, for a walk on the beach, to the mountains, anything to get me out of the house, but to no avail. I don't feel up to doing much right now beyond lying comatose on the couch. I was starting to doubt if I'd be able to keep up with my goal of going out once a month, or if I even wanted to. But on Thursday, I impulsively decided to finally get my second nipple piercing before they closed this week. It'd be quick, quiet, and perfect timing.

I went in first thing Friday morning and thankfully it was pretty quiet. Amongst other fears, I was terrified of running into people I knew. My outings are usually as far away as possible, ideally at least 45-60 minutes drive away. I haven't been out this close to home in a long time. The piercing itself was fine, and without a doubt the least scary aspect of the outing. It was nice to see a friendly face again after so long. I left the store feeling okay, a little buzzed even, but fell into a panic attack and broke down in the car because everything suddenly seemed too loud, too bright, too much.

Since I can't show a picture (well, technically I could, but I think I'd traumatize you all), I thought I'd share some pictures of my other piercings. There's a list and a few pics at the end of the post.

GP appointment on Thursday was weird. I dunno. I just felt totally out of it, like the appointment didn't really happen or I wasn't really there. The only thing I really took in is that she's agreed to take me off zyban (useless antidepressant and 'smoking cessation aid', hah) so I've cut back to one a day. I still don't know if she's planning on putting me on something else, or raising my mirtazapine dosage (antidepressant I've been on for years but doesn't help anymore, which was cut back when I first started zyban) back to my full dose or what... ugh.

I feel like time's speeding by before me. Where did the hour go? Where did the day go? Where did the week go?

I'm still hibernating in my lounge-cave as much as possible, hiding away and ignoring the world around me, watching docos and movies when I can zone out, too depressed and drained to get off the couch, pretending I don't exist from breakfast til dinner. I still can't explain the strange sense of calm it gives me, to feel like I'm not really in the world. It's not even 'calm' - it's a still, motionless, deflated, flat feeling, mixed with lower anxiety levels thanks to lorazepam. 

My weight is going up and down and is grandly pissing me off. I'm starting to remember why I stopped weighing myself everyday. Still using the Wii scale because I'm pathetic and too scared to know an accurate number. Dietician tomorrow. I'll update more on the current food/exercise situation later on the week. Just wanted to tell you guys about the piercing and strange GP appointment. 

Anyway, my current piercing list, for those of you interested;

• My tongue piercing, a surface piercing (pictured) Everyone said it wouldn't work, wouldn't last, but five years on and I've had no problems with it.
• My lip piercing (pictured) Again, a lot of people doubted this one, but it's lasted. Also, I've never had any dental damage from my piercings, unless you count accidentally biting the jewelry while eating.
• Two nape piercings (pictured)
• Two vertical nipple piercings
• Tongue frenulum 
• Two eyebrow piercings (right). These are my only 'unbalanced' piercings, but I can deal with it because there's two, not just one.
• A navel piercing
• A conch piercing (behind my right lobe)
• A rook piercing (right)
• An industrial/scaffold (left ear)
• Four lobe piercings (two stretched to 8 gauge)

xxBella

Hospital Ramblings

Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting and sending me lovely messages this past week. I know I say it a lot, but it can't be said enough - you guys are lifesavers and mean the world to me.

I'm still in hospital. I've officially been here for over a week, and to be honest, I wasn't expecting I'd be here so long. The Lung Doctor Man (thoracic physician) is planning on sending me home at some point this week. The infection is clearing and my oxygen levels aren't as bad as they were, though there's still a long way to go. I'm so exhausted. It takes so much energy to even pick up my phone, to brush my hair, to chew and swallow food. Even short walks, not even five minutes, leave me breathless. My oxygen still drops but it hasn't been getting below 88%, which is better than what it was prior to admission. I'm surprised it's still so low - last year when I was hospitalized, I was only on oxygen for not even 24 hours.

On Saturday, I was allowed out of the wheelchair for the first time and they started weaning me off oxygen. I hadn't walked more than a few feet at a time all week, only to the bathroom and back. For the first couple of days I wasn't allowed out of bed at all - I was even wheeled in to an x-ray on a hospital bed with a half dozen staff clamoring about, which was an experience, to say the least.

It's scary how quickly my strength declined - both in walking and breathing. It was just two months ago I was exercising for two, three, four hours a day! I never even got to see my physician during that period. Any benefit that exercise provided to my lung function will never be known, and now I'm back to square one. I'm dreading having to start exercising again, starting back at square one, unable to keep up for even 15 minutes. I worked so hard to get my endurance up, and now it's gone, just like that. I'm really looking forward to exercising again, doing my step aerobics and my cardio boxing. After being sick these past couple of months, I feel more motivated than ever to get this weight off.

Food has been stressful, obviously. My intake's been anywhere between 200-700 calories. I've been sticking to plain foods and weighing them up on my trusty pocket scales. I've been mainly eating poached eggs, steamed chicken and fish, plain bread, potatoes, yoghurt, fresh fruit and veggies, those sorta things. Some meals have been total disasters, where I take one look at the tray and end up curling up in a ball crying my eyes out for hours because I just can't do it. I only had wine with dinner once despite how much I was looking forward to it - it just isn't worth the calories.

My anxiety is crazy in here. There's too many people, too much noise, too much space. I'm struggling without any coping mechanisms. My physician is giving me lorazepam three times a day. He was actually the one who orginally recommended it to me a year ago, though it took a good six months for my GP to agree. I've been tearing my skin to shreds and pulling my hair out, but I haven't really been able to self-harm, and I obviously haven't been allowed to smoke (not even a cigarette!). The doctors in emergency noticed the burns on my arms and cuts on my legs on admission, but thankfully it hasn't really been mentioned again. I've nearly torn apart my shaving razor a few times but I really can't risk it. They don't deal with psych here, and I just can't risk being sent to public with the Horrible Psychiatrist.

I was crying my heart out the first day on the ward, and this wonderful lady from pastoral care wandered into my room. I'm not a Christian, not by a long shot, but she just talked to me, and I talked to her, and we clicked when I told her about my sewing. Amazingly enough, she used to be a seamstress, and in her younger days had aspirations of studying at NIDA too. She spent a couple of hours with me each day last week which was a great comfort. On Friday when she left, she gave me a hug and said she'd pray for me. She said she'd be back on Tuesday though, and I'm so looking forward to seeing her again.

I'm still struggling to take all of this seriously. When it comes to my health, I always tell myself its not that bad. Whether it's to do with anorexia or COPD or anything really, I never think it's that serious. Things could be worse, right? I'm still smoking a year after diagnosis, and I was doing okay, so it can't be that bad.

Being in here has given me even more time to think, to stew, to wallow in the vast nothingness that is my life. The depression is so strong right now. Part of me is a disappointed that I'm not really sick, like dying sick. I feel just as overwhelmed as I have for months, just as hopeless. I don't want to be a part of the world. And therein lies the reason why I haven't even tried to quit smoking, and why I know I'll start straight back up again the second I'm discharged. It's hard to care for your health when you just want it all to be over.

There's so much more to say, but my head just isn't processing things right now. Apologies for the unstructured nature of this post.

Boo hasn't left my side all week. Staff are quite enamored with her and know her by name. My notes read 'HIGHLY ANXIOUS'. I'm 21 years old, 6'1", have 18 piercings; and I can't make eye contact, I cry constantly, and refuse to let go of my Boo.

My GP came by again on Friday, but I missed her because I was getting an x-ray done. The big surprise was when the Mental Health Nurse came to visit, twice! She came by on Tuesday and again on Friday, and she bought me this book to read that she thinks will help. We actually had a really good talk and I opened up about a lot of things, so that was unexpected considering I'd only met her twice before. I miss my dietician like crazy though, and I won't be seeing her until next week. Even when I was hospitalized last year, I only missed one appointment.

There's a harpist who goes around the hospital, playing for patients. He came by and played for me on Tuesday and Wednesday, and oh my god, it's such a beautiful instrument. I don't think I've ever seen or heard a harp up close before. Watching him play was just enchanting. A recording of him playing Brahms' Lullaby plays over the loudspeaker every time a baby's born in the hospital, and if you're lucky, you'll hear a newborn crying shortly after. The lady from pastoral care told him about my sewing, and he thinks I could do amazing things for the special care nursery, making little quilts and things. (Picture from Google)

My brother's girlfriend went to Bali, and bought me back some coffee! I can't wait to try it when I get home. Sick of drinking instant all the time.

And just to clarify; my piercings only came out for the bronchoscopy. They're such a part of me, I'm not about to let them go that easily! It was just standard procedure, just like removing necklaces and earrings. I just have a helluvalot more jewelry than most. I haven't been piercing-free, even for a minute, for so many years, so I thought it was worth a photo. Unfortunately, I missed out on helping my piercers set up their new studio over the weekend, but oh well.

xxBella

Bronchoscopy

So I'm in hospital. Things took a nosedive when I apparently caught a cold on top of my bronchiolitis/COPD exacerbation.

Where should I start? It's been a hectic few days. I saw my GP first thing Monday morning, and wasn't even in her office five minutes before being moved to the treatment room to be given oxygen. My oxygen levels were dropping to 77-83% which is definitely not good, and the nurse hooked me up to the oxygen tank while my GP tried to get in contact with the thoracic physician (A.K.A, The Lung Doctor Man). After an hour, my GP told me the specialist wouldn't be at the hospital until 6PM and so arranged for me to be admitted via New A&E (more on this in a later post).

The last few days have been hectic with tests and treatments to no avail. Today, though, I'm dreading.

My x-ray upon admission said 'something's wrong', but the physician can't tell what's wrong exactly. There are 'abnormalities', and he thinks I might have a bronchiole (the tinier airways, after the bronchi) almost completely obstructed, which matches where the worst pain's been for the past few weeks. I had a CT scan done a few hours ago, and I'm getting a bronchosopy so he can really see what's going on.

Frankly, guys, I'm fucking terrified. This is by far the most invasive procedure I've had, and I've never had anesthesia before, either. It'll basically involve getting a camera inserted down my nose and into my lungs so he can have a poke around, see what's going on, take some biopsies, whatever.

Fucking terrified.

Oh, I nearly forgot. Just before I was moved from A&E to the ward on Monday night, my GP popped her lovely face into A&E to quickly check up on me. I actually nearly started crying. Then the MH nurse, who I've just started seeing, actually dropped in quickly last night too, as it was on her way somewhere. I don't know what I've done to deserve such goodness. I've never had a team, or even a single medico, who I've felt actually care about me before. Everyone is so kind and I'm so... undeserving.

I didn't get the opportunity to eat on Monday amoungst the chaos. Yesterday I managed 330 cal. Today I had most of a slice of wholemeal toast with Vegemite at 8AM, but since then, I've been fasting - a requirement for both the CT scan and bronchoscopy. No water, either. If I have any water in my stomach, it could be aspirated during the bronchoscopy. But it means I've not had to stress about food too much these past few days which has been a huge relief, and I've gotta admit; the first thing I'm doing when I get home is weighing myself.

I feel like a scared little girl. Everything's just so messed up right now, I can't even find words anymore beyond depression's word-vomit (e.g, 'I just want to disappear', 'I can't do this anymore', 'It's all so pointless and I'm such a waste'). I can't stop crying. This, the lung issues, is all too much to deal with on top of everything else. I just want to go home and smoke and starve myself into an early grave. And my agoraphobia is fucking crushing me in here. God, I would kill for a smoke. On the upside, I get my quarter bottle of Cabs tonight with/for/after dinner (yes, this is the hospital that gives you alcohol).

I'm sorry guys. It seems I've been posting and commenting less and less since I've been so sick, but you guys mean the world to me and I love you all. I'm reading everything and doing what I can, and I'll try to write more often after my lungs clear up. 

Note/Update: 

I was literally two minutes away from publishing this when the anesthetist came in and whisked me away on a moment's notice, nearly a full hour early, which sent me into full panic. He had to place a new IV since the first one literally fell out overnight (the nurse didn't secure it properly). I nearly broke down when he said, quite brazenly, "You don't eat enough", in reference to my bulbous veins - a combination of a thin wrist and my usual disgusting fluid intake of 16-24 cups a day. 

All I really remember about it was the sedative kicking in, the bed tipping back, and the pain of the bronchoscope in my nostril (though I have no visual memory of such), and then waking up, coughing blood, disoriented, an hour later. The Lung Doctor Man spoke to me briefly and all went well. He took a few biopsies so now we play the waiting game. I'm just trying not to think about the logistics of the procedure. 

I weirdly cried for an hour because I felt so disoriented. I then had to wait another two hours before I could eat or drink anything afterward. And then, 11 hours after my last sip of water, the nurses all tried to offer me solids but all I wanted was milk, fruit cordial and a freezing cold can of Diet Coke. 

It's coming up on midnight, and even if sleep eludes me, my body is crying out for rest. I've had maybe ten hours sleep in the last 96. I've been lucky to get more than an hour's sleep at a time before I wake up coughing, sweating, in pain again, and it's hard to fall asleep in the first place when I feel like I'm suffocating, even though I've been on oxygen 24/7 since Monday morning. 

There's so much more to say, but for now, at least, you know the basics. I'll post more in a few days and try to start catching up on comments tomorrow, I promise.

Y'all have seen me without makeup countless times, so here's a 'truly naked' selfie, Bella-style. No piercings allowed. Hospital lighting is shit, sorry.

And the leftovers...

xxBella 

Eternal Twilight

I've been in my own little world this week.

 
I'm in hibernation mode, and I've felt completely isolated from the world.

It started on Saturday. Home alone, I set myself up in the lounge with my laptop, notebooks, journal, my cigarettes, a few extra lorazepam and a big glass of ice-cold Coke Zero. I drew the curtains and closed the door, turned the radio off and the heating up high. I curled up on the couch with my duvet and my teddy friends, and zoned out to some ED movies and docos (list below). I'd forgotten what a good distraction they can be.

I felt like I was in my own little world, shut off from everything. I didn't have to move, I had everything I needed in one place. I only left the lounge to make coffee or go to the bathroom, and then I was back in my little hideaway. I could stay on the couch to smoke my cigarettes, which I usually can't. I didn't pay a care to the time on the clock or having to eat at exactly 8, 12, 3, 6 o'clock - time didn't matter, didn't exist, and it was a wonderful freedom. An eternal twilight. 

By the time 6pm got here, I looked at my food diary and realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast (a small slice of Vegemite toast and some strawberry yoghurt - 73 calories), so I heated up quarter of a can of tomato soup with a splash of skim milk and some basil and black pepper. I've only had canned soup maybe 3 or 4 times in my entire life, but I still have none homemade in the freezer. It actually wasn't too bad, but I couldn't stop thinking "Do I really need this? I'm not hungry, why am I eating this? I don't deserve to be eating this". After 100ml, I poured the rest down the sink, finishing the day on a total of 145 calories. And it felt good. 

I haven't been able to feel comfortable in the house for years due to trauma issues. I practically live in my armchair on the back porch so I can chain smoke, and sleep on the couch - my bedroom is really the cat's room. I don't spend time inside unless I have to do something, like sewing or cooking, and I don't feel like I really 'belong' anywhere. But this weekend, I felt comfortable to hibernate in the lounge, and I didn't feel like I had to keep busy, I didn't beat myself up for doing nothing like I have been lately.

I don't know what it was exactly. I think it was a combination of it all - the isolation, warmth, darkness, the way time seemed to stop, the quiet, the constant movies to distract me, being able to stay in one place, not having to eat proper meals at proper times. It sounds so simple, but it's like I've stumbled upon something I haven't had for years. The lower intakes probably played a hand as well as the extra lorazepam - I simply felt too tired to get off the couch, and for once I didn't have to. 

So I've kept hibernating into the week. After breakfast, I set myself up in the lounge with everything I need, and stay there until it's time to start planning dinner. Mum's being a godsend and is allowing me to keep smoking cigarettes in the lounge, though only between breakfast and dinner. She's asked that I at least keep eating breakfast and dinner with her, but she's agreed to not push me to eat during the day. 

I did get out yesterday to see the dietician, who was lovely as always. She has a day off coming up soon, but she's coming in to see me first thing anyway. She said it'd be strange to start a Tuesday without seeing me. In June, I'll have seen her every week for two years. I'm amazed she's put up with me for so long, but I don't think I'd still be here without her support. Tomorrow I'm off to see my GP, for the last time before I have to start seeing The Mental Health Nurse. Sigh. 

*Saturday through Monday, I watched The Best Little Girl in the World, For the Love of Nancy, Sharing the Secret, Thin, Super Slim Me, Caraline's Story and The Truth About Online Anorexia, plus a few episodes of Dr Phil. Thank you to everyone who left suggestions on my last post, especially Miss Angharad who was amazing and sent me a dozen links on Facebook, which I'm slowly working my way through. 

xxBella

Duck and Hide! and documentaries

I'm losing days. I can't believe it's already been a week since I last posted. 

I feel lower than I have for a long time. Everything is horribly wrong and I don't know how to talk about any of it. I've achieved nothing, barely moved from my armchair all week, again. It's like I'm being weighed down by negativity and haven't the strength to shift it. I can't stop crying, and I still can't explain why. 

Sometimes it hits me that my anxiety is just ridiculous. For example, when I do my step aerobics, I'm in the loungeroom looking out the front window, listening to music. On Monday, a post van pulled up to deliver a package. I actually ducked and hid in the corner as he came to the door, even though you can't see me through the netting, and I'm obscured by a rather large tree. Why? Where is the logic? This isn't a rare occurrence, either.

I saw my GP earlier, just quickly to get a flu shot. They have a policy of sitting in the waiting room for 15 minutes after injections incase of allergic reaction. She knows I get really nervous in the waiting room, so she let me sit in the car since we were parked right outside the receptionists' window which was very kind of her. I'm seeing her next week for a double appointment, and a joint appointment with her and the mental health nurse two weeks after that. If she doesn't take me off these useless antidepressants next week, I don't know what I'm going to do.

Mum's going away over the weekend. I won't bore you with all the stupid reasons why I tend to struggle being alone with my head for too long, but the important thing is to try to stay distracted, lest I spend it wallowing in my armchair with nothing to drown out the negative thoughts.

My plan of attack is to keep distracted by marathoning ED documentaries since it's been a while, and I'm hoping I can get stuck into some serious sewing like I did last time I was home alone, though it might be a little ambitious since I've barely been managing an hour per week lately. I also need to really try to keep exercise at two hours max, since my intake inevitably drops further when I'm not being held accountable.

I'll post a few links below, these are the first few that came to mind, but I wanted to ask if you guys had any suggestions for ED documentaries? I'm open to all recommendations. I'd also love to know if any of you have seen any good fictional films about EDs - I've never really seen any.

• Thin by Lauren Greenfield
• Dr. Phil - 'Deadly Thin' (Aimee Moore)
• Super Slim Me (BBC)
• Caraline's Story
• Dana, The 8 Year Old Anorexic

It's still very early days and the polonaise isn't even 10% finished, but I had to pin it all up to my dress model last weekend to make sure the pleats were in the right spots, so I snapped a few quick pics to give you all a sneak peak. Considering how little I've been sewing lately, I think it's going to take a while to finish.

xxBella

Exhaustion, Éclairs and Alcohol

Today, I am drained. I am emotionally exhausted to the point that it physically hurts. All I want to do is collapse and sink into the floor and disappear. 

I am acutely aware of all the things I should be doing, but instead I stay stuck in my armchair, paralyzed and sick with anxiety.

I should be exercising. I should be sewing. I should be reading. I should be cooking, making soups to fill the freezer with easy-to-grab dinners, or meringues for safe afternoon snacks. I should be doing something crafty. I should be doing something with my days.

But at the moment it's a challenge to get out of bed in the morning, to brush my hair. I try to sew (I'm still working on the top half of this dress), but I can't focus for more than ten minutes at a time. I actually kinda want to get back into gaming, but even that seems too daunting. Exercise, I can motivate myself for, but I should be doing more.

I saw my friend on Friday evening. I didn't have a panic attack or anything of the sort, amazingly enough. I didn't feel as anxious about my anxiety as I thought I would, if that makes sense. I drank, but not to excess, though it was enough to push the scales back up a little. Is it possible that I've finally grown into a responsible drinker? It's a miracle.

It was just bizarre to be social again. For over a year now, the only people I've seen have been my family and my medical team. I haven't really had a social life for the last 3-4 years, and it amazes me that I still have any friends left after having disappeared for so long. That said, I'm still content with the peace and quiet of isolation for now, I think. 

Mum's been asking a lot this week about doing something to get me out of the house and out of this rut. I'm thinking about maybe doing another bushwalk, or maybe going to the zoo or a wildlife sanctuary for something a bit different. I don't know. I'm not exactly jumping up and down to go out again. We'll see.

With summer drawing to a close, I acquired a new pair of shorts on sale. There were no size 4s, or even 6s, so I settled for a kids' 12. They still fit better than any of my other shorts, which are all size 8 and up.

My brother's birthday was on Tuesday. Me being me, I like to do birthday baking. One thing about my brother is that he doesn't eat cake. He does not eat cake. Cake. Anyway, so this year in lieu of a birthday cake, I made a batch of mini chocolate eclairs (they were about 3-4" long and 0.5" wide - so fiddly but so cute).

xxBella

*head explodes*

It's confession time. I've been doing sneaky weigh-ins on the Wii some mornings. Okay, every morning for the past two weeks. I don't know why. I know I shouldn't. It just happened. 

I know that judging my weight on a daily basis is futile, and nothing short of an exercise in torture. But I slipped back to it so easily, so comfortably, and the scales are once again dictating how my day will go. With everything I eat, even the safest of safe foods, there's that worry of what the scales will say in the morning. I haven't weighed myself daily for... well, maybe two years. It's been the one thing I could say I was doing 'right'.

Tuesday morning, my dietician told me I'd lost weight. She never tells me how much, but this time I already knew. I was down 0.3kg this Tuesday from last Tuesday on the Wii scales. It's not much, but it's something. I can't expect to lose 2kgs week after week anymore. Even though it's never given a 100% accurate weight, it's at least consistent. So I don't know exactly what I weigh each day, but I know of any changes. I didn't tell the dietician and my mum doesn't know either. I barely spoke, again.

She keeps asking if I know why my intake's still so low, what's different now compared to when I was reaching 1,200-1,300 calories. I sat silent for what felt like an eternity before I could summon words. 

"My... mood."

I couldn't elaborate more than that. I don't want to dump all of the crazy, heavy, illogical, deathwish, deep-down crap on her when she's not a mental health professional.

And speaking of the devils... Leaving the appointment, I finally bit the bullet and booked my first appointment with the Mental Health Nurse. April 9th. I've put it off for as long as I can, but my GP's been increasingly uncomfortable with herself and my dietician being my only supports. I can't say I blame her. I haven't seen any mental health professionals for over two years, so I've had a good run. I haven't seen one on a regular basis for even longer. I still have no idea what to expect but I'm trying not to over-think it. Honestly, I think my biggest worry is about getting slapped with a section and pushed into weight restoration, which has been the general trend after seeing psychiatrists etc. ever since I developed Anorexia, hence I've worked so hard to avoid psychs and hospitals these past few years.

Oh, and the whole 'social' thing... I'm catching up with my friend later today for drinks. Surreal. I've just had my second lorazepam for today and will likely have another before I go. On top of everything else, the prospect of social interaction has had my anxiety at agonizing levels all week. I feel completely overwhelmed, and I've been taking one, two, three lorazepam a day to try to calm my head. I considered backing out last-minute, but what good would that do me? It'll never get easier. 

Agoraphobia-wise, it's not too much of a challenge. It's not like I'll be out-and-about in the world in public with strangers. It'll just be house-car-house which I can deal with, and he's someone I trust and feel safe with. Since a few people have suggested it; I actually cannot stand to have people in the house. I feel too vulnerable and completely freak out at the idea of anyone visiting. We haven't had company in years. I won't even let medical professionals in despite their offers of home visits.

But the anxiety, my god, I don't have words enough to describe it. I really, really don't plan on making being social a regular thing or a goal in the foreseeable future. It takes me 24hrs+ to send a one-sentence message because I stress so much over every word. How am I supposed to hold an actual conversation?! 

I am actually an alien. I wouldn't put it past me to try to shake hands with a car.

This week's just been... I don't know. Everything's too much, too overwhelming, too much. I just have to get through today, and tomorrow I can hide away from the world again. For now though, I need to drag my butt out of my armchair and get on the step to kill some time and clear my head, lest I sit here bubbling away with stress for the rest of the day. 

xxBella

What is this I don't even

In the past few days, I've had two people message me on FB, both asking to catch up with me.

What is this madness?!

This never happens.

The first one I don't know too well, and haven't seen in at least 4-5 years. The second was a good friend of mine, again four or five years ago, whom I told 6 months ago we'd catch up sometime soon. 

I haven't had much social interaction outside of the blogosphere for the last few years. My anxiety keeps getting worse year after year. In the entirety of 2012, I had maybe five social encounters, and a big fat zero last year. The few years before that weren't much better. Currently, I haven't seen a friend in... 15 months now.

I'm not too sure what to do. I have the social skills of an alien, and communicating with non-blogger friends sends my anxiety levels through the roof for days at a time. I don't even know what to say when people ask 'how are you?'! Heaven help me if I actually have to talk to someone face-to-face.

As for my weight... I don't normally cry when my dietician weighs me anymore, but I came bloody close this week. She told me I weighed exactly the same, and my heart sank.

She tried to console me by saying sometimes it takes the body a little while to catch up, that it might drop next week although she hopes it doesn't. It didn't help. 

"I wish I had an explanation for you... Sometimes these things just happen."

I told her it's impossible to consider eating more when I'm already maintaining. I know logically that when my intake's been higher I haven't gained, but I just can't do it right now.

I didn't have the energy to pretend I was okay with it. I didn't have the energy to pretend that I don't just want to disappear. I sat there shaking my head, too ashamed to make eye contact.

I've been trying to cut back my exercising since, though my intake's still anywhere between 400-700, plus Tuesday's family dinner and drinks (1,400, argh). I'm trying to keep it at two hours max a day, though Wednesday was something like three and a half hours total between step aerobics and Wii boxing, Thursday was a little over two hours. Once I start it's hard to let myself stop. I know a lot of you can relate. Yesterday I kept it to 60 minutes because I was feeling awful, mentally and physically, from the moment I woke up. I just couldn't push myself to do a second stint, and I feel horrible about it today. I've already done two hours this morning, though I might do more after posting this, to clear my head before I have to actually answer these messages, I don't know. 

As a side note, I made a big batch of sugar-free meringues on Monday night - 8 egg whites worth, which have been my afternoon snacks this week. If you haven't seen the recipe before, go check it out. They're a little more fragile than regular meringues, but nutritionally speaking they're essentially egg whites and Splenda.

So while it hasn't exactly been a busy week, it hasn't been quiet either. I've just felt completely overwhelmed every hour of every day. I feel fat, and I am sad, and I just want my head to stop.

xxBella