Cheeseworld, and other ramblings

So we ended up doing a trip to the cheese factory on the weekend. It'd been a long week and mum thought it might help lift my mood a little to try getting out, though it turned out to be a bit of a disaster. Excluding medical appointments and going for drives in the car, it was the fourth time I've left the house so far this year (quick recap: I went shopping in January, did a bushwalk in February, and got a piercing in March). I was only out of the car for maybe five or ten minutes, but hey, it counts.

We were planning to have lunch in the cafe, but I ended up panicking when we were looking at the menu and escaped to the car with a Diet Coke while mum bought the cheese. There were too many people, too many food options, too many items currently unavailable. It didn't help that my stomach's been iffy since I've been sick, so I've been sticking mostly to fresh-and-fruity or plain-and-dry foods or liquids, of which their display was lacking.

We didn't go into town or anything, and just headed straight back after getting the cheese. My mum is fairly addicted to this cheese, so we end up doing a day trip to the factory outlet every so often. Just down the road from the factory, mum pulled the car over and I cried and rambled hysterically for a good half hour, then curled up and sobbed for the first 90 minutes of the two and a half hour journey home.

The rest of the week hasn't been much better. I realised I really can't wait six weeks to see the mental health nurse, and made an appointment for next week instead. I don't know what I'm going to say or what I'm even expecting to come from it, but I'm heading towards a crisis and I'm desperate. I don't know what else to do. It'd have been this week, but I struggle enough with two appointments in a week, let alone three days in a row.

The more I think about it though, the more she's right. I don't know how to live in the now. I'm too busy worrying about the future or moping in the past, and it leaves me too overwhelmed to function. It's paralysing. I'd never thought of it that way before, but maybe I wouldn't feel so overwhelmed all the time if I could actually deal with things at the time.

From the moment I wake up, I'm just waiting for the day to end. I feel so overwhelmed by everything. By life, the world, reality, the hours on the clock. Each day is too much, too unbearable. There is so much I should be doing and I can't do any of it. I'm stuck. I spend hours upon end crying and rambling and repeating myself that it's all pointless, nothing is okay, that I can't do it anymore, it's all too much, oh god, it's all too much. There is nothing to hold on to, nothing to look forward to, nothing to get me through my days, and I don't know what to do.

The GP was Monday.  My chest infection is still hanging around. The painkillers are helping with the bad fevers, but that's about it. She's given me another fortnight on antibiotics and a month more on prednisolone. I'm just tired of feeling so sick. The oximeter was being glitchy and reading my oxygen sats in the 70s, which it most assuredly was not. My checkup with The Lung Doctor Man is coming up in a few weeks, though I can always try to see him beforehand if things get worse.

Sorry this post has been so all over the place. It's been a long week and it's hard to get my thoughts together right now. For now, I think I'm about to return to the couch and finally watch this 'Starving in Suburbia' movie I've heard so much about lately.

8kg (17.6lb) of vintage cheddar - 2kg were for a friend of mum's, though. It's not a great photo but it's four blocks high, 500g each. The 2kg blocks are too difficult to shave so we didn't get any this time. That's somewhere in the ballpark of 32-thousand calories.


xxBella

It's Time to Talk

I met with the Mental Health Nurse for the first time today, after putting it off for the last six months.

It's been years since I've seen anyone with mental health training. The last time I saw a psychiatrist was three years ago, when I was sectioned. I haven't seen anyone regularly and willingly in even longer, since before my ED. Between the last psychiatrist being nothing short of cruel, and the fear of being sectioned or hospitalized again, I've kept as far away from MH professionals as I could. It took a long time for me to even trust GPs again - I hadn't seen one for years until after I started seeing my dietician. But I understand it puts my team in a hard place, and my dietician and GP have been amazing to've seen me for nearly two years now without any MH support.

It was just a quick appointment, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, and my GP was there too at the start. It was very much a 'get to know you' appointment, to be continued in a month. I sucked at talking, as usual, and kept my eyes firmly fixed downward. My GP started by talking a bit about my history over the last ~18 months. The MH nurse asked about diagnoses and I mentioned anorexia, anxiety, depression, C-PTSD, agoraphobia... I really wasn't keen on talking, so she and my GP were just going to have a better look through my file. 

She did give a good analogy though. Basically, she was saying that with anxiety your mind's constantly worried about the future, and with depression you're set in the past, and either way it stops you from living life in the moment. She thinks ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) and mindfulness could be helpful to bring me back to the now. I learnt a little years ago, in non-ED inpatient, just things like stopping and listing all the sounds you can hear, but I've never really known how to apply it. So she might be onto something there. 

In sickness news, the antibiotics don't seem to have helped much at all, and today's my last day on them although I'm on prednisolone for another week. I still feel as congested and phlegmy, I still feel as feverish and exhausted as before. My temperature was back up at 39°c last night although the nausea hasn't been too bad. When I saw my GP last week, my oxygen saturation was up to 96% which is actually a considerable improvement from 95%. Overall I haven't declined but I haven't improved either. I'm seeing her again next week, but I don't think it's worth seeing her earlier unless the pain/shortness of breath gets worse. 

Oh, and I'm finally coming off the Zyban (useless antidepressant) in the next week, and my Mirtazapine's back up to a full dose, although that doesn't exactly help either. I still don't know if there's plans to try different antidepressants or not. Again, it's difficult when I haven't seen any MH professionals for so long. I don't know.

My dietician still doesn't want me exercising which is really getting to me. Without it, I've been smoking even more to try to drown out the anxiety, which is kinda counterproductive. But I've barely exercised for nearly a month now. I haven't weighed myself for two weeks because I'm too afraid to. I'm already dreading how hard it'll be to start exercising again after such a long break, but c'est la vie. 

I'm actually kind of itching to get out of the house, after not going out during April. It's been six weeks since my piercing! Mum's planning a day trip to the cheese factory soon (last night we apparently ran out of the 6kg/13lbs of vintage cheddar we bought in December), so I might tag along if my chest clears up. If not, I'd still like to do more bushwalks. We're already halfway through the month though, and I would like to at least try to get out and about. 

xxBella

Appointments and Tapestries

First off, thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes! I ended up having just one glass of wine with dinner and was asleep by eight, but hey, it happens.

The dietician was absolutely lovely this morning. She gave me a birthday present, a new journal and some scented soy candles, and on Thursday I actually got a happy birthday text from her via the computers the receptionists use to send appointment reminders. Words cannot even express. She is just wonderful.

I was dreading getting on the scales. I haven't been weighing myself this week but I was sure I'd gained. I haven't exercised at all for over a week and had a slice of cake nearly every day, but my weight actually dropped a little bit. I was speechless. 

The GP was really good on Thursday. Before I even spoke, she asked about my chest since my breathing sounds awful. She said I should've made an appointment when I first started having troubles, even if it was with a different doctor. My oxygen read 95% which isn't terrible but isn't good either. I've got two weeks of antibiotics, a week on prednisolone (a corticosteroid, to reduce inflammation), painkillers and a puffer every four hours. She said I should've started taking the leftover prednisolone and had the antibiotic scripts I was given a year ago filled, especially if I was seeing her in a few days anyway. I know she says I can, but I always hesitate, because I don't know for sure when I should start taking them.

I'm seeing her again this Thursday, though she said she can squeeze me in if I need to see her beforehand. Yesterday we called and she gave me a script for stronger painkillers which seem to be helping a bit. If my oxygen doesn't improve or the pain gets worse, she thinks a few days in hospital could help. Good thing I got my health insurance sorted last week, right?

Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I have zero energy at the moment and really haven't been online much. I've been keeping up with reading but I know I haven't been commenting as much as I usually do.

Also, my new project; a bloody massive tapestry (it's about 36" wide). Mum did Shearing the Rams (below) years ago, and bought this one at the same time but never got around to it. So I've started it, but don't expect to see it finished any time soon. I still haven't finished my sewing project yet, but I haven't been able to do much stuck on the couch.

*A quick catch-up for those of you who are newer readers; last May I was hospitalized after having a chest infection for quite some time. I was referred to a thoracic physician (more commonly referred to as The Lung Doctor Man) who diagnosed me with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease and Bronchiolitis, so chest infections can be kinda dangerous.

(I put this at the end because a lot of you will've read it ten times before, sorry.)

xxBella

Level Up

So, today's my 21st.

I tend to find birthdays pretty depressing by nature - same as Christmas and New Years. I never expect it to hit me so hard, but in the week or two prior my mood plummets. Kind of like a 'what the fuck am I doing with my life?' thing.

I wrote a wall of text about how much things have changed over the last five years, what life used to be like, where I thought I'd be by now... that sorta stuff, but it was too distressing to see written down. I spent hours yesterday crying to mum about anything and everything. It's all so overwhelming, life in general, I'd rather just bury my head in the sand and try to block it all out.

I'm not doing anything particularly special today. Mum asked me to think about going out for lunch or something, but I really didn't want to. Anxiety and sickness aside, cafe and restaurant food is always so disappointing. I'd rather have homemade and make things exactly how I like them. I didn't get out of the house at all this month, but oh well. There's a piece of lamb in the slow-cooker and potatoes roasting in the oven, and I might see how a glass or two of Shiraz goes with my icky stomach.

I exercised for two hours on Monday, step aerobics and Wii boxing. I figured; I already wake up sweaty and gross, so why not? It'd been a week since I'd last exercised, and it was getting to me. I started with the intention of just doing half an hour, but I can't do just a little exercise. If I exercise, it needs to be for at least an hour of two. It's all or nothing. It's been weeks since my last 3hr+ day and the guilt just keeps building and building.

GP tomorrow, thankfully. Yesterday was totally fucked and today hasn't been much better. Aside from the depression, I'm getting really bad pains in my back (lungs?) whenever I cough like I haven't had since I was in hospital, and I'm coughing near-constantly. Coupled with a killer headache, fever, crazy BP readings and all that, I've achieved literally nothing for the last two days. I've barely even looked at my phone, barely been able to move off the couch. Billy and Misty have been keeping me company though - my furbabies always know when I'm not well. 

Mum got me a ghd hair straightener! Excuse my crazy-bitch face scratches. I've been pretty good at keeping self-harm away from my face recently, but this weekend...

Mum's birthday is exactly a week after mine, so this year I just made a shared birthday cake. Last year I made two and it was hellish. It's similar to the one I made at Christmas - three layers of chocolate cake, sandwiched with buttercream, coated in ganache. I haven't had a chance to try it yet. I took one tiny bite earlier when mum had a slice, and it set off another coughing fit before I could even swallow it, and then I was too nauseated to even think about trying it. Sigh. 

xxBella

Cough, gag, puke

I've nearly finished the sewing project I started back in November, the 1880s dress. It's not quite finished yet, but I'm getting there, slowly. I've been doing a bit of hand sewing this week while stuck on the couch, and I've got the 'structure' of the dress done, I guess. I've just got to do the buttons, hem, and put on lots of lace and bows, and find a brooch so the collar sits properly, but it's basically done, so I thought I'd share some progress pics. 

Sorry for the bad lighting. It's usually much earlier in the day when I take sewing photos and I've only just finished it, but I wanted to share anyway. Better pictures when it's 100% finished. 

I'm still feeling icky... Some days aren't so bad, some days are awful. At night I wake up every hour, either because I'm coughing or freezing from the fever-sweats. Thankfully my fever hasn't really been getting up to 40°c anymore and I'm not in too much pain, but yesterday was awful. I was stuck on the couch all day with a fever of 38°c. A couple of hours after falling asleep, I woke up suddenly and was violently ill for the next hour. My body just kept retching long after my stomach was empty. After I eventually got back to sleep, I woke up at 2am and got up to take some painkillers and have a quick smoke. Bad idea. One puff, cough, cough, gag, puke up painkillers, collapse back on the couch.

Today hasn't been much better. I wasn't feeling so bad on Tuesday so I didn't make a doctors appointment. I don't know if it'll just pass or if it's an infection or what. I'm already seeing my GP next week though so it's fine. I would've been lucky to get an appointment this week after the long weekend anyway.

I was home alone again on the weekend. It was nice to have some quiet time on the couch. I spent most of it marathoning Futurama and Disney movies because I couldn't focus on much more than that, though I still have ED documentaries to work my way through. I haven't worked out for nearly two weeks except for an hour on Saturday which is killing me, but at the same time it's nice to not have to stress about it.

Oh, and another piece of excitement (for better or worse) was that mum bought me an Easter egg. It was a sweet thought, but it led to a total meltdown because I really wasn't expecting it, and I ate it, and ugh, it was all just bad. 

I think that's about it for now... Thank you guys for your messages and well-wishes throughout the week. Sorry I have less and less to say as time goes by. 

xxBella

Infected

I feel like I've been hit with a tonne of bricks.

It started on Tuesday afternoon, in a wave of lethargy and chills, a cough from hell, a fever of 40°c (104°f), back twinging, heart racing, throat aching. Just like that, I felt too weak to move, too weak to lift my arms to roll a cigarette. I keep ending up in uncontrollable, breathless coughing fits. The kind where everytime I cough, I can feel my lungs exploding a little. I've spent the last two days going from armchair to couch, coughing my lungs up, constantly dozing off, shivering and sweating, tears leaking out because everything just hurts.

I haven't exercised since Monday for obvious reasons, but holy shit do I hate myself for it. I know I shouldn't push my body any harder right now, but it doesn't stop the guilt. I feel like death. Thankfully I made a big batch of soup over the weekend, so at least I don't have to worry about food prep - 14 cups of my mother's signature lamb, lentil, barely, peas, carrot, potato & onion concoction now resides in my freezer, coming in at 116 calories per cup.

Maybe I should've paid closer attention to the warning signs. Increased inhaler usage. Waking up coughing all through the night. Those strange little back pains that plagued me over the weekend. A chest infection, maybe? Either way, I guess it's a good thing I got my flu shot last month. Mum wanted me to see a doctor today, but I thought I'd give it a little longer and see if it goes away on it's own. They're closed until Tuesday now anyway, for Easter. On Tuesday, I'll either be feeling totally fine, or I'll feel like I'm dying and need to see a doctor ASAP. 

I know I'm rambling and whining, but seriously, I haven't even had a sniffle of a cold for nearly a year now, and this week I feel like I'm falling apart. Yesterday I was in tears for five hours straight, which only makes the breathing troubles worse, which only distresses me more... I feel like I'm suffocating and I've no patience for anything right now. 

In other news, my birthday's coming up in two weeks. I'll be 21 on the 30th, wow. I don't think I'll be doing anything to celebrate. I've always had quiet birthdays, and 21 is hardly a 'big one' anymore. It's not a coming-of-age or 'key to the door' as my mother says. Our legal drinking age is 18, so that's not an issue. All it really means is taking responsibility of certain bills such as health insurance (how exciting). It sure as hell doesn't feel like I'm 21 though. The last few years have totally disappeared and birthdays keep sneaking up on me. I still feel like I'm 16.

Tuesday was dietician day. Tuesdays don't take so much out of me anymore. A lot of the anticipation and anxiety surrounding my weekly appointments has faded now that I'm weighing myself at home (not that it ever changes much) and it's becoming more of a chore to get there each week, but I'd be in free-fall without her. She isn't supposed to be working next week or the week after, but she's coming in next week to see me anyway, which is so kind of her. She's going away for Easter and getting back at 2am Tuesday morning, but will be in at 8am to see me anyway. Bless. She really is wonderful. I tell her not to worry, that I'll be fine, but she knows things get harder with weeks without appointments to pull me out of my own little world.

I think that's about all for now... Sorry I've fallen so behind on comments etc. this week. My brain is fried and my lungs are trying to kill me. You guys are amazing and I love you all to pieces. 


xxBella

Swimming Against the Tide

I feel a bit like I'm swimming against the tide lately.
That rip current that gushes backward and pulls you further out to sea. If you try to swim against it, it exhausts you until you eventually run out of energy and drown.

I don't want to fight it anymore. I am so tired, so overwhelmed, it hurts. Why? What is the point?
I feel like this big black hole of negativity, sucking in and destroying everything around me. A waste. A waste of food, a waste of space, time, money, oxygen. I just want to hide, from everything. I don't know what to do anymore.

I've been slowly working my way through a heap of ED docos and movies. I was watching Perfect Illusions yesterday, and at a few points they talk about how eating disorders are by nature a coping mechanism, that they mask a lot of problems. You depend on it more and more until it's how you cope with everything. Then when you take it away - the way that you think, the way you deal with things, the only thing you know - you don't know what's gonna be there when you take all that away. You don't know what's underneath, deep down, and it's a terrifying prospect. And it's true. The only thing that terrifies me more than gaining weight, than eating - or more to the point, part of the reason I fear it - is facing what's underneath.

I got a message from my piercer last week, inviting me to come help set up the new studio and jewelry displays before they open, to get me out of the house if I feel up to it. Which is pretty cool. When she asked mid-piercing what I was doing these days, I was blunt and told her that it was only the fourth time I'd gone out this year, that I've been basically housebound for the last few years. I feel so guilty about dropping off the radar for so long, from everyone, but I'm starting to learn that doesn't mean they all hate me for it.

I don't know. Maybe. I said I'll see how I go, but it really depends on how I feel on the day. It'd be a good opportunity to catch up with both of my piercers, because we all know I'm not about to venture into a busy studio anytime soon, but I really don't know if I'll be able to or not. We'll see what happens.

I was actually supposed to be meeting the Mental Health Nurse on Wednesday, but apparently that's been rescheduled for mid-May instead, not that I'm complaining. Funnily enough, within a few days I got a letter saying The Lung Doctor Man has also rescheduled my next check up, from mid-May to June. I still can't bring myself to quit smoking when my depression's so strong, and I still don't know how to explain that to him. I've actually had to use my puffer four times in the last two weeks (more than I've used it in a whole year - usually I just use a preventer puffer twice daily) because I've gotten into uncontrollable, breathless coughing fits. Whoops.

Apologies for such a disjointed post, again. I'm a broken record, I know, I'm sorry. You guys are all amazing, I'd have totally lost it by now if it weren't for our little blogosphere.


I feel like I'm slowly slipping away. And I don't want to fight it anymore.
Just let it carry me out to sea.

xxBella