Each year I sit down with my manilla folders full of chat logs, photographs, old blog posts and poetry, and read through it. I read bits and pieces out to mum. It's a sick and twisted ritual, but it's sort of a way of grieving. I honestly believe I died back then, that he killed me. I'm not the same person I was before I met him. I don't even go by the same name.
I want to cry, realizing that since it's a leap year, it's eight years ago, and it never gets any better.
I've bounced back from last weekend's OD pretty well. The pressure sores are starting to heal and I feel less weak in general.
But after last weekend's fiasco, my GP started me on weekly Webster packs, meaning there's no extra meds in the house. It's sad. It was only a year or two ago that mum stopped hiding my medication - everything from paracetamol to antidepressants - after my big OD when I was 12 (which I'll write about, for the first time ever, later this month to mark 10 years).
I did okay for a few days, more or less. Then I had another big slip up on Tuesday with Webster pack #2. My week's worth of meds was gone within a couple of hours. Normally I take seroquel of a morning, lorazepam of an afternoon, and more seroquel and oxazepam before bed, plus seroquel and lorazepam PRN. I thought I was going to wake up in hospital again. I don't know why I did it. I just wanted to make the pain stop.
Apparently I saw Jo later in the day, but I don't even remember. I thought she hadn't had any gaps. I went back yesterday, scared of what she was going to say. Scared she'd stop the benzos and tempt me to take other crap in it's place. She said I'm pushing it with the benzos, but for now, we're trying daily dispensing.
Yesterday was day one, and it didn't take long for me to pop them all at once. Last night, with no meds, I only slept two hours after spending the night doing step aerobics and marathoning Dr Phil. This morning she gave me the week of PRNs at once, and they were gone in one gulp, so now PRNs are to be picked to daily too.
She also said she's worried about my calorie intake, as my weight's been dropping consistently again for a while now. I'm having supplements pretty much daily, and it's still not enough. Although it's agreed it's the dietician's domain, not her's, not the psychologist, who I'll be meeting in a few weeks. In fact, the new psych doesn't deal with EDs at all, which is a blessing. She agrees the ED psychs go too hard and fast, and it simply doesn't work for me.
I've been texting the dietician these past couple of days. On Monday I didn't know what else to do or who to turn to, so I asked for her help. I didn't see her yesterday, partly to avoid being weighed, but I'm tried to get in to see her this afternoon. She usually has a couple of cancellations, but no such luck today. It feels like she's the only one I can talk to and who puts up with my crap.
I'm at a point where I
So that's about it for now. I just wanted to give you all a quick update, since I now suck at posting at least once a week.
Thank you guys for all your support, always. I honestly don't know where I'd be if not for the blogosphere.