I know I'm a little late to be posting about the New Year, but I've been having a lot of trouble wrapping my head around things lately. So, today I thought I'd go back and do a bit of a review of the past year.
First off, I had my weigh-in with the dietician this week. I came in at 43.9kg, nearly exactly 10kg down from last January. Looking at the records, she says it's been a fairly consistent drop. Since then, I've dropped another 2kg. Food is harder than it's been in a long time. I stopped exercising completely about two or three months ago, and the weight seems to be falling off.
I won't get to see her next week, which will be hard. Tuesday is Australia Day, and by the time mum called, she was booked out for Thursday. I'm on the cancellation list, and she always says that there are people who don't turn up to appointments. I live maybe 2 minutes away, so hopefully I'll get a phone call at some point on Thursday. At the moment, she's the only one I can talk to, and the only one who follows up with the recent trauma confession.
For the last couple of years, I've been trying to challenge my agoraphobia by going out once a month. It didn't happen last year. I manage appointments, and occasionally going to one place for smoke. Apart from that, I haven't really gone out since our trip to Warrnambool for my birthday.
I did manage an outing in November. We drove to Werribee so I could go fabric shopping. On the way home, we bought coffees, and numb-nuts here decided to hold it between my knees and take the lid off to add my sweetener, while travelling 100km/h. Needless to say, I spilt boiling black coffee all over my skirt and legs, and sat with burning thighs for the half an hour drive home.
There was also a sneaking out incident that I mentioned briefly, just before Christmas. I haven't even written in my journal about it. I think I was a tad manic, because I would not normally jump the fence to get in a car with someone I've only known online for a few days, let alone stay out until 7am. It was kind of surreal.
2015 was the first year since diagnosis that I wasn't admitted to hospital for my lung issues (COPD & Bronchiolitis Obliterans). I've had more than my fair share of antibiotics though. After joking about it for so long, last year I kept track. I was prescribed antibiotics for 172 days out of the year. 182 would've been half the year.
That said, I've had three lots of seizures and one black out, leading to many ambulance calls and trips to A&E. I'm still waiting for my neurology appointment (two months!), but I'm starting to think that maybe it's more linked to my head hitting/self-harm than just smoking and sleep deprivation.
My mental health nurse left in January. Since then, it's been slow progress getting to see someone else. The new MHN said something she really shouldn't have, and I don't particularly want to have to see her again.
Last month, a trauma confession bubbled to the surface, about my childhood abuse. Since then, I feel like I've been in crisis. I don't know what to do. I know it's something I need to work through, but everyone seems to be pushing me to just move out instead so they don't have to deal with it. Unfortunately, with my agoraphobia, living on a crime scene is preferable to the unknown.
I haven't done much sewing this year. I made a few aprons for last Christmas, plus two little dresses for Katie's little girl.
Apart from that, I've been doing some sketching and planning, but all I've really been sewing is the essentials - camisoles, trackie-dacks, alterations, a couple of basic skirts. Hopefully 2016 will be a more productive year. I started painting and re-doing my study/studio some weeks back, but haven't had the energy or motivation to finish, meaning my studio is currently spread between the lounge room, bedroom, and well, the whole house.
Last week, I got to five years in a row on MyFitnessPal. That's 1,825 days straight, for those of you playing along at home.
Happy New Year to all of my beautiful followers (and apologies for the pic spam!).