I haven't used this for a loooooooooooong time. I was SHIT at blogging stuff!!!!!! Aint a lot better at You Tube BUT... at least I post stuff daily n say what I WANT to say etc.....
Ifound I can better communicate via You Tube than here.
Don't make me bad.
Dont make me anythin any different than before..... exept I've learned I can talk at cameras better than I can write..... Xx
http://www.youtube.com/user/littlewhippet76?feature=mhum
Friday, 27 August 2010
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
The Fight against Evil
It's wearing me out, battering the life out of me, a little more each day. I wake up weaker, find it in me to be srtonger then end the day feeling like I've been sucked a little drier.
Last night was bad.
Just the sight of the food they'd cooked me, pathetically sat there- the 4 oven chips, 2 limp undercooked vege fingers and what looked like a mountain of sweetcorn & peas on my less-than-dinner-sized plate, boiled an anger and rage within me that I thought I would tear my own limbs from my body before even being able to sit down at the informal breakfast bar evening meal location, in my own messy kitchen with Kerrang Radio blarrin' out in the background.
I actually believed there and then, I would slip into a coma of anger and despair the second I picked up a forkfull.
I will spare the detail of the next painful half hour where the thing that saddens me most was my son leaving the kitchen with a nervous smile and jokey over-tones in his comments that he was gonna go watch some TV or somethin' and leave me & hubby to 'bickle at each other' or words to that effect.
I manged half of that meal, washed down with soda & polite sips of Ameretto over ice.
Then the pain set in for real.
Hubby got my meds, far earlier than usual, cancelled the regular Monday night supermarket run (which I don't go along to anymore) and sat with me while I was shaking, crying and totally overwhelmed with what just happened.
It all came out.... I explained over and over that the evil that is in me, isn't an eating disorder- it's a raging evil that is coped-with with the ED.
It is coped with by starving.
It is coped with by drinking (sometimes), by shopping, by going to work everyday and putting 110% into my job.
When i'm a normal to above normal body mass, it is coped with by all the above, including bouts of self-harm out of frustration, by over-partying- I could go on but the point is, as I explained to him- I simply have to 'cope' in some way because this evil- this goddamn evil inside me NEVER goes away, no matter how well I look, how well I functon, how well I convince myself and the world that I'm ok.
And that's why I feel like I have lost the fight again.
Nothing ever changes. Years go by and I hope I am ok (I know i'm not). Less help becomes available because I never get 'cured' and no-one can ever find a way to help me for good. So I get through on the basis that I 'look' ok and function.
I can't do that anymore..... the thought (the thought i've had for too long now) that I could spend the rest of my life fighting this, depresses more than I can deal with anymore.
And although lack of food, is NOT the answer, it is the only thing right now that can dampen the pain. As hubby told me 'then they'll blame you feeling this way on the anorexia and treat you for that and not help you with the 'evil' you keep on about'
I know what he means.
But right now, I just don't know what to do next.
Appointment with new therapist on Thursday.
Someone out there must know something..... MUST know a way out. Please share with me. Please help me.
I'm not mad. But i'm getting there.
Last night was bad.
Just the sight of the food they'd cooked me, pathetically sat there- the 4 oven chips, 2 limp undercooked vege fingers and what looked like a mountain of sweetcorn & peas on my less-than-dinner-sized plate, boiled an anger and rage within me that I thought I would tear my own limbs from my body before even being able to sit down at the informal breakfast bar evening meal location, in my own messy kitchen with Kerrang Radio blarrin' out in the background.
I actually believed there and then, I would slip into a coma of anger and despair the second I picked up a forkfull.
I will spare the detail of the next painful half hour where the thing that saddens me most was my son leaving the kitchen with a nervous smile and jokey over-tones in his comments that he was gonna go watch some TV or somethin' and leave me & hubby to 'bickle at each other' or words to that effect.
I manged half of that meal, washed down with soda & polite sips of Ameretto over ice.
Then the pain set in for real.
Hubby got my meds, far earlier than usual, cancelled the regular Monday night supermarket run (which I don't go along to anymore) and sat with me while I was shaking, crying and totally overwhelmed with what just happened.
It all came out.... I explained over and over that the evil that is in me, isn't an eating disorder- it's a raging evil that is coped-with with the ED.
It is coped with by starving.
It is coped with by drinking (sometimes), by shopping, by going to work everyday and putting 110% into my job.
When i'm a normal to above normal body mass, it is coped with by all the above, including bouts of self-harm out of frustration, by over-partying- I could go on but the point is, as I explained to him- I simply have to 'cope' in some way because this evil- this goddamn evil inside me NEVER goes away, no matter how well I look, how well I functon, how well I convince myself and the world that I'm ok.
And that's why I feel like I have lost the fight again.
Nothing ever changes. Years go by and I hope I am ok (I know i'm not). Less help becomes available because I never get 'cured' and no-one can ever find a way to help me for good. So I get through on the basis that I 'look' ok and function.
I can't do that anymore..... the thought (the thought i've had for too long now) that I could spend the rest of my life fighting this, depresses more than I can deal with anymore.
And although lack of food, is NOT the answer, it is the only thing right now that can dampen the pain. As hubby told me 'then they'll blame you feeling this way on the anorexia and treat you for that and not help you with the 'evil' you keep on about'
I know what he means.
But right now, I just don't know what to do next.
Appointment with new therapist on Thursday.
Someone out there must know something..... MUST know a way out. Please share with me. Please help me.
I'm not mad. But i'm getting there.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
its real, its REAL, oh the misery- i'll die laughin, never!
Am back. Never been away. Here.... but just simmering.
Strange how I could tell tales of my successes these last few months; impress you with my achievements, my new job, the friends I've made there, the way I've coped with the harsh reality shit that gets slung at you day in day out- all the positives and the happies and the smilies. Yet, for every bad time, for every fuck up and every very very deeply fucked up ED related piece of crap that weaves itself into my good times- I have very little success to report.
See, I kinda hoped like hell when I started this blog that I would somehow lightly bounce my way to certain recovery with a princess smiledoning ruby slippers and a sweet basket full of organic veggies and gluten free cup cakes, swinging merrily by my side while I smiled my pearly yellows with a sneaky fag behind my back and no knickers on as I waltzed down that yellow sick road..... didnEE happen..... f'in surprise Dorothy. IT DON'T.
So now I am still here, desperatly seeking therapy for no reason other than I need to do something. Holding down my job and work friends who can't possibly picture the monster I turn into on evening's and weekends when it kicks in that I am Borderline too much to let anyone know just how bad it is but ED'd outta my head enough to starve-drink-vomit- kill myself every single Friday and Saturday night.
I live somewhere where there is no reality.
I am in a place that hurts so bad, I actually can't think how I'm still here.
But manage to somehow blag a life due to my impressively perfected BPD that has allowed me to swap in and out of the little worlds I exist in and convince just about everyone that isn't unfortunate to have married me/ lived with me/ slept in my bed for more than an hour to believe that I am happy, smiley fuckin-sometimes -goddamn -witty little me who is (elbow in ribs and a wink-) such a wicked laugh!!!!!!
I am dying here. I am suffering and wasting and I am broken. I am also functioning, happy and fit n healthy.
How the fuck do I know whats real???? The end of the world, the bottom of the pit, is non-existent, after a good nights sleep and a day at work. I am many people. And this is the problem.
Anorexia is no longer allowed round here.
Which means everythin else is allowed.
To stay on the edge.
And that means EVERYTHIN'.
And however much hell n destruction is brought on by that cocktail of 'alternatives'...
The thing I can't have.... will poke it's dirty fingers into every other corner of my otherwise non-planned out week (i'e. the hours when I not at work).
And so............. I is livin' in hell. And doin' a damn good job of it! ;)
Strange how I could tell tales of my successes these last few months; impress you with my achievements, my new job, the friends I've made there, the way I've coped with the harsh reality shit that gets slung at you day in day out- all the positives and the happies and the smilies. Yet, for every bad time, for every fuck up and every very very deeply fucked up ED related piece of crap that weaves itself into my good times- I have very little success to report.
See, I kinda hoped like hell when I started this blog that I would somehow lightly bounce my way to certain recovery with a princess smiledoning ruby slippers and a sweet basket full of organic veggies and gluten free cup cakes, swinging merrily by my side while I smiled my pearly yellows with a sneaky fag behind my back and no knickers on as I waltzed down that yellow sick road..... didnEE happen..... f'in surprise Dorothy. IT DON'T.
So now I am still here, desperatly seeking therapy for no reason other than I need to do something. Holding down my job and work friends who can't possibly picture the monster I turn into on evening's and weekends when it kicks in that I am Borderline too much to let anyone know just how bad it is but ED'd outta my head enough to starve-drink-vomit- kill myself every single Friday and Saturday night.
I live somewhere where there is no reality.
I am in a place that hurts so bad, I actually can't think how I'm still here.
But manage to somehow blag a life due to my impressively perfected BPD that has allowed me to swap in and out of the little worlds I exist in and convince just about everyone that isn't unfortunate to have married me/ lived with me/ slept in my bed for more than an hour to believe that I am happy, smiley fuckin-sometimes -goddamn -witty little me who is (elbow in ribs and a wink-) such a wicked laugh!!!!!!
I am dying here. I am suffering and wasting and I am broken. I am also functioning, happy and fit n healthy.
How the fuck do I know whats real???? The end of the world, the bottom of the pit, is non-existent, after a good nights sleep and a day at work. I am many people. And this is the problem.
Anorexia is no longer allowed round here.
Which means everythin else is allowed.
To stay on the edge.
And that means EVERYTHIN'.
And however much hell n destruction is brought on by that cocktail of 'alternatives'...
The thing I can't have.... will poke it's dirty fingers into every other corner of my otherwise non-planned out week (i'e. the hours when I not at work).
And so............. I is livin' in hell. And doin' a damn good job of it! ;)
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