health – Page 3 – Honest Lies

“What you accomplish will never quite matter as much as where you fail.”

I had my driving theory test last Thursday. It totally sneaked up on me. I had been cramming desperately for two or three weeks, but still felt hopelessly unprepared. It left my wondering what on earth I was thinking booking it so soon (well OK, the plan was I would get it over and done with before I started uni but still, I quickly discovered this was a flawed plan.)

That morning I was supposed to wake up early and do last minute mock tests and studying, but typically I overslept. I got to do some practice, but in doing so I left late. The bus got caught in traffic. Once off the bus I realised I had no idea where to go. My phone GPS wouldn’t connect. When it did it sent me to the wrong entrance of the test building- I had to go into that wrong entrance and managed to find a very nice, understanding man to give me directions. Back out the building and around to the right entrance where a security guard gave me a set of confusing directions- left? Up the stairs? Left again? What? I found the place soon enough anyway and it was OK. The people at the test centre were great and friendly which helped ease the nerves a bit. I begun my test with a series of multiple choice questions and a case study. I did my best to breathe deep and trust in my revision, trying not to second guess myself, get confused and worked up. Next came hazards – a series of video clips to spot the developing hazards in. I was confused because the set up was completely different than the mock tests on the official practice DVD- I had to go through the instructional video twice! Worse, halfway through my test I remembered I hadn’t touched off my travel card when leaving the bus, which was distracting. I kept thinking about fines and how to sort that out, rather than paying attention to hazard spotting.

I left the test room conflicted and worried. But when I got my results, I had passed. I had done well even. I let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s a big sigh of relief!” The lady at the reception desk said. I grinned at her, laughing. Then I thanked her. “I’ll see you around…well I guess I won’t now. Good luck!” The lady said. I smiled and thanked her again before leaving. Just like that, it was halfway over. This driving thing. I went to a nearby café and ordered a coffee, sat down to drink it and wondered why I had put it off so long. Of course, I remembered that the practical part of driving isn’t going as well, and doubt returned, making me wonder if I am capable of getting my full license. Perhaps I had only passed the theory because I had drilled the practice questions into my brain in such a thorough manner. My driving lesson last week was bad, as was the one before that. I am progressing very, very slowly. I am not enjoying driving very much.

At least I managed to study for my driving, at least I managed to muster the effort to put some effort into that. My university work is still being stubbornly ignored. And tomorrow I have to begin university again. Just introductory lectures, but I’m terrified. Real life is rearing its head, and I can do nothing else but confront it, even though I’m so scared. This is my final year of university. I’m going to be doing a lot of independent work. A whole thesis on a topic I do not understand, and worry that I won’t grow to understand. I have to apply to jobs- and what if that doesn’t work out? It feels too soon, I just want to press pause on everything. Well, that is what I have been doing for this summer, haven’t I? Now my fun is up and its time to work again.

I’m not doing so good though. The anti-depressants make me feel tired and lazy and inexplicably sad. I keep waiting for them to work, to feel different somehow, but I don’t. Not really. In some ways I feel better, but in other ways I almost feel worse. In the same way, I keep waiting for certain things to happen, thinking that once they do finally everything will click into place, and I’ll be OK. But I’ve already ticked so many of those boxes and nothing changes. I’m starting to lose hope. And that is what has kept me going and that is ultimately why I am afraid of fourth year, because without hope, with this horrible sadness and helplessness clinging to me, I cannot bring myself to work. I just want to hide away and sleep. It’s not a good frame of mind for this fundamental year. It feels like what will happen this year will define the rest of my life. It feels enormous and important. And thus, overwhelming to be facing it. Thus, overwhelming to be facing it when I feel this way.

I’m not ready to be a graduate. I’m not ready for the ‘real world’ – to work. I don’t feel capable or grown up in any way. It’s all very worrying. I cannot stop worrying.

At least work is going well, and I’ve found some things to help keep my eating under control, and to help me sleep better (which I will write another entry on!) and I passed my driving theory test. And I’m going home soon so I can see my cat, and go hiking. There, I can be positive. Just.

Post Title: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves - Karen Joy Fowler

“The star, called ‘suffering’, that was shining in your eye, is your city”

This summer has passed quickly. I’ve not been writing anything down. I don’t know where to start or what to say. I started anti-depressants and it has been strange adjusting to them. I started on a low dose and as my serotonin levels adjusted – or whatever happens – I was left feeling numb and detached. Robotic, my doctor described it and I mostly agreed. I did not feel as anxious or as sad but nor could I feel happiness or excitement. Bad and good emotions were gone. Fast forward and I’m on a higher dose and not quite so robotic, but still not quite where I wish I could be. And I’m tired. No matter how much or little I sleep I’m always exhausted and I cannot concentrate. This state I’m in…its no state for blogging. I’m actually not having a bad summer and plenty has happened but I couldn’t find it in me to write any of it down. The first time I was struggling with my mental health I needed to write it down. I’d blog, and I also kept a private written diary for my counselling- I’d write the bad thoughts down, and then I’d process them. In another notebook I’d scribble down what I was feeling, ranting, so emotional that the pen dug in deep, almost cutting the paper, then I’d scribble it out, turn the page black or blue. This time I’m internalising it, I’m thinking a lot, always thinking, but I struggle to express myself. I’ve become very withdrawn.

Nonetheless, this summer hasn’t been bad. I’ve been in a bit of a limbo with things- spending too much time asleep, or wasting time, all my grand plans for university work lying at the roadside. Fairly typical.

I’ve been home a few times. My sister came back from a big holiday so I went home to look at her photos, and I went walking with my dad the following day. Looking at my sister’s photos should have been boring, but I spent most of it curled up resting on my fathers shoulder, and I felt so safe and comfortable and relaxed that it became one of those perfect moments I’ll remember for a long time. I’d only just started antidepressants then, and I did not feel good. Feeling safe and relaxed felt foreign but wonderful. In that moment I also felt loved. Sometimes I feel so alone, I forget that I am precious to my family at least. With both my parents- its easy to tell how amazed and proud they are in regards to the daughters they raised. It must be a strange feeling to see the babies you once had and can still remember so clearly, now grown up into adult woman. Even I look at my sister, who has matured so much, who is so grown up that I struggle- she’s my sister, but she also has her separate life and as she grows older the ratio changes and her separate life grows. I know I need to respect that, but I still remember how it used to be and its hard to let go. Family relations get so strange as you get older. I feel so clingy and burdensome sometimes, I wonder if I should be more independent. I don’t really know how to act around them anymore, where the boundaries have now shifted. It’s just strange.

It was my birthday in July – 22 now. My sister took me to a food festival and we had a grand time stuffing our faces with overpriced food and watching the demonstrations from cooks and bakers. It was good to have my sister to myself for a time. See: above paragraph. That evening we went out to dinner- my parents, my sister and her boyfriend who I invited because it was the polite thing to do, because I thought that was one of the changes to make now we are older. My sister was so happy to hear that I wanted him there that I knew I had been right. But… I was the only single person there, and the only child. I felt so out of place. I couldn’t enjoy myself. Yes, I turned 22. It doesn’t feel much different than 21, although my embarrassment at how childish I am only deepens as I age. I don’t feel like I act as an adult should. I feel naive and inexperienced.

Walking with my dad was as always delightful and improved my mood, at least.

Later, in August, I went home as my cousin had come to visit and spend time with our family – which was awkward, but not too bad. I stuck close to my dad mostly, which made me feel like a bad person, but my cousin is too unfamiliar, and too gregarious for me to feel comfortable. Looking at him, my mother and my sister they looked more like a family than if I were there. Especially my sister and my cousin- they are so similar in looks and personalities it hurt to look at them.

I’m going home again soon. Going to try spend more time with my mother and sister. It seems whenever I go home I mostly hang with my dad. It’s most comfortable, but its not right.

Apart from that, I’ve settled into work quite nicely. I spend my Tuesday afternoons and Friday mornings there now. I’ve taken on the role of health and safety officer – so I test the fire alarms every week and do visual inspections monthly. I’ve been allowed to help with the cashing up. Mostly I shelve and cull books, and occasionally go on the till. Its monotonous work mostly, but I like it – there is something oddly calming about sorting and shelving books. It does make me anxious dealing with the public though- I never seem to have the answers to anyone’s questions, and I mostly fail at small talk. When I’m on the till I can’t meet anyone’s eyes and I have a little script I made for myself. Sometimes, perhaps I’m imagining it, probably am, when I look up from staring at the counter, just briefly, I think I catch bemused glances from the people I serve and it only makes me feel more ashamed. I can’t go on the till too long otherwise I start feeling sick and shaky, my chest tightening, my words starting to run together, even if I’ve taken my anxiety meds. The fact that I can do this though- that I can deal with strangers for 8 hours a week makes me feel good. And I like that it adds a bit of routine to my week- I would probably lose track of the days otherwise.

Of course I’ve also started to learn to drive, which I don’t enjoy, but hopefully the doctor will say its OK to take my anxiety meds whilst driving and then it can improve. My instructor is lovely, but driving itself is still scary and foreign and overwhelming.

I’m trying my best though. To develop outside my degree. I said it before didn’t I. I put so much into university that other things got left behind. But I’m trying now. I’m working, I’m learning to drive, I’m trying very hard to get on with my family. I’m recovering, trying to keep going even though I’m exhausted and the future is uncertain and I’m scared and anxious. I’m trying to get better. I’m trying not to let the fear from stopping me from living.

Even though the fear that its too late never goes away.

Post Title: Epik High - One

“There should be just one safe place in the world.”

I had my first exam of the semester today. It was fairly terrible. I was feeling pretty OK about it – I’d done a good amount of revision I thought, and the past papers were fairly similar. Of course the exam turned out completely different from the past papers, with some very odd questions. By the end of the exam I felt panicky, but I couldn’t hold on to that emotion. When I left the examination hall I was worried but mostly I just felt relieved. One down, just another to go. I’m not looking forward to the next, as it is my weaker subject compared to the one today – and well, my one today did not go well which does not bode well for the weaker one. But at least its just the one left. And I’m not going to hold onto those emotions either. I’m just over this semester. I want it done with.

Of course, my calm state might have a lot to do with the pills my doctor gave me on Thursday. As mentioned in the last entry, I was called back to my doctor. I finally worked up the courage to phone on Wednesday, and went to see him on Thursday. I was a nervous wreck, sitting there in the waiting room, shaky and at a loss as to what I was going to say. Why was I even there? But once I sat down with the doctor it turned out OK. I forget sometimes how lucky I am to get a doctor like this, who is putting in so much effort in my treatment. My doctor is really nice, and its great that I’m able to see the same doctor for my appointments – I feel he knows me by now, and I have dealt with him enough that I’m beginning to trust him. It helps that he’s very friendly and cheerful. He’s very positive and optimistic and I like that about him – it makes me feel optimistic. It makes me feel that yes, I can get better. And I greatly admire my doctor for being able to be so upbeat despite what must be a stressful job. It makes me trust in him as a doctor. Doctors who make the effort to have good ‘bedside manner’ are the best. I feel very blessed to have been able to meet such a great doctor, as I do not think I would have the courage to go speak to him last year about this, and to carry on with these appointments, otherwise.

Anyway, on Thursday we talked about where I wanted my treatment to go now regarding my mental health. More counselling was offered, but I declined. I’ve got enough to think about from the last round. Then medication came up. Its come up before- and I dismissed it then, too scared, not feeling like my problems were serious enough. This time, I hesitantly enquired about my options. In the end he prescribed me short term betablockers for anxiety- which I’m so grateful to have. I took my first on Friday as a test and it made me sleepy and sluggish, and it was strange, because my thoughts were worried, and usually that would lead to physical symptoms – feeling sick, shaky, my chest tight, my heart racing. Those kind of things. But it just wouldn’t. I didn’t feel entirely calm – but I couldn’t panic. It felt a bit weird, actually. It felt unusual to feel so relaxed, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Similarly in my exam today it was actually almost as distracting that I wasn’t having a panic attack than if I was – I was keenly aware of the absence of it. It feels downright strange to feel relaxed, how pathetic is that?

As well as that I’m currently thinking of going on anti-depressants. I’ve always been against them. Its not that I think nobody should take them – but I’m personally terrified of the side effects. And there’s also a stigma surrounding them isn’t there? It feels like I should be able to deal with my problems without medicine. After all its always in the news isn’t it – that as a society we are covering our problems with pills, that it is basically not good to take them. Its weakness, that you cannot deal with it without medicine. That the pills themselves don’t work, and are damaging us. The horrific stories of their side effects. Even when I research them – and I spent a good few hours on Friday trawling through the internet looking up information – the list of potential side effects from reputable sources are daunting. What if it makes it worse? I cannot help but think. But then I think – what if it makes it better? Its not like I’ve not tried to solve this myself. I’ve been through CBT twice. I’ve gone to speak to a counsellor a few times. I’ve tried enough, haven’t I? Its not a new thing…this. Its years of trying, years of ups and downs and further downs. Surely its not cowardly to want to take medicine? I know a pill won’t magically fix anything, but if it could just make it a little easier…is it so bad to want to have it a little easier?

The side effects are so off putting though. And the thought of more doctors appointments…is slightly exhausting. But I have the whole summer free, so it feels like a good time to try this. If it goes wrong, there’s nothing that can be affected. I hope. I’ve been thinking about this since Thursday and it always cycles back to despite the risks, I should do this. But I’m still unsure.

Lately I also worry about talking about all this here. I read an article about the dangers of talking about your mental health. And it was sad article, because it basically says to be extremely careful, especially in regards to social media, and its true, and it made me think. Can my blog be connected to me in real life? I do not think it can. But sometimes I do worry – where do you draw the line between wanting to talk honestly, and ending up being too honest? It becomes especially tricky when it comes to talking about things like this. Again, as the article said, there’s a lot of stigma and a lot of misunderstandings surrounding mental health. You wish to live in a society where this isn’t shameful, where you don’t end up fearful of someone finding out – like you’ve got some dark secret, not an illness. But its not like that. I’m already nervous with all the strange gaps in my CV, which cannot be explained, and at the possibility that one day I’d have to tell an employer of this for safety purposes. But right now, I do wonder about this on my blog. Its a fairly anonymous blog, but is it anonymous enough? Its too late to make it completely anonymous after all. Its just I do not have anywhere else to talk about this. Its not something you can talk to anyone about. I just want to talk about it, somewhere. This blog has always been an expression of myself, an online diary. I wonder if its old fashioned to keep this kind of old style of blog, and if maybe there isn’t a place today for these kind of blogs. Of course despite this, I’ll keep writing. I’ll cling to this idea of this being my “safe place” where I can express myself. I just do worry sometimes about it coming back to me.

Post Title: Richard Siken - road music

“‘Not that kind of tired,’ she said. ‘I’m tired in my soul.'”

→ I had to finalize my fourth year modules today. I’ve been so stressed out about it. I thought by fourth year we would have some freedom – that there would be some fun modules, like being able to do a language, or to do something on renewables. Such a thing was not to be. I had 20 credits of free modules which I wanted to take Japanese in, but turns out I had to take 10 credits of business modules, and as a Japanese course is 20 credits…well. I also did not like the look of any of my other engineering module choices. I’ve had ages to think of it, but I felt so overwhelmed so kept putting it off. Finally, I emailed my head of year to ask if I could take Japanese anyway. No dice. I reluctantly chose two business modules, went to the business school, and got told I couldn’t take one of the modules. Sat at the business school reception for like an hour, going over and over the module list they had given me – trying to find anything that sounded vaguely appealing. Failing that, I tried to find something useful-sounding and not too intense. In the end I chose introduction to finance and introduction to business operations. I went back to get it checked and the guy was super apologetic that I couldn’t do what I wanted and I felt like a jerk – even if I’m disappointed, is there a need to be so obvious about it? It’s not his fault. I did that thing I do sometimes – where I channel my frustration with a wider situation into a tiny situation i.e. take it out on someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not good at containing my unhappiness at times.

→ That done, I still had to pick my engineering modules. After much going back and forth I accepted that I wasn’t going to be able to do exactly what I want, but had to do what was necessary in some cases and settled on advanced control systems design with project, advanced electrical machines, advanced power conversion, RF microelectronics with project. Those advanced in the titles are worrying. I thought that what I was doing this year was pretty advanced but it gets worse?! I’m also very worried about the projects as my practical and design skills aren’t my strong points, to put it politely. I know I need to suck it up and do it – because these projects will teach me valuable skills, but I’m still dreading it. I’m not looking forward to fourth year at all. These modules, and I’ve got to choose a dissertation and then I’ve got to do it, and I’ve got Japanese level 3 and I’m feeling very unsure about that, and job applications will most likely be starting right in September. There’s just nothing to look forward to.

→ My group gathered last Thursday to hand in our final thesis.The week leading up to the deadline was stressful as one of my group members decided he wasn’t happy with it at all, and he verbally tore it apart, and I got angry, and I felt bad. I’d put so much time and effort into it, that I did not take well to him telling me he was going to make so many changes, and at the last minute. I was also worried he was taking on too much at the last minute, and it would not get done on time. But I forced myself to soften up and trust him, and he pulled through. I can be terribly controlling when I get anxious about things and that is not good at all. He had some valid points and I should have been less defensive- he wasn’t criticizing me and I should not have taken it so personally. I feel really bad about it and I did try to apologize but I worry I was not sincere enough. Nonetheless, we did it. We developed it and got it all done. 1am the night before and I finished the last edits and sent it off to my group members. The next day I met up with my group members, and there it was – all printed out nicely in color. My group mate had bound it in a black folder. I felt a little proud seeing it; it looked so professional. I kept flicking through it, looking at the pages and pages of text in wonderment, did we really write all this? It was strange to finally submit it, after all the time that went into it. But it was such a relief to have it done with. Someone asked me if I enjoyed it and you know, despite the stress of it. I did. I liked that it wasn’t a practical project but a research oriented project, that it wasn’t highly technical but looked more at the political and socio-economic impact of engineering. I’m not good with programming and practical work and would have hated doing that kind of project. Of course, still got a presentation and individual interview on it to go. I am admittedly worried about the marks for this. We handed in a draft on the 1st and I thought we would get feedback for it but we didn’t, so we emailed our supervisor directly and he only got back to us the day before the final project was due – which meant that we could not really follow through.

→ I had my last counselling session about two weeks ago. I received a letter in the post the other day which was a copy of the letter my therapist sent to my doctor. I read it through twice and had to sit down a moment as it hit me that this is on my records. Its ugly. Today I got a letter from my doctor calling me in to see him for a little chat. I don’t want to go. Its not like I regret going to the doctor about this. I was scared and I was anxious and I needed someone to talk to and it was good to do so. But now I find myself wanting to withdraw from it. I made myself vulnerable in front of strangers, and I don’t feel entirely comfortable with that. Also now that everything is done with and has been put into perspective I do massively, more than ever feel that I’ve made a big deal out of nothing and am wasting peoples time. So I want to withdraw. Not from treating myself. No. I realise that is where I went wrong last time. I was so relieved to be out of counselling the first time, I felt so much better, that I completely ignored the aftercare. I decided to just act as if it hadn’t happened because I was better wasn’t I- but I wasn’t dealing with certain things, not really. so it built up, and left me in my current situation. I’m going to be more vigilant now. I’m going to accept that things aren’t OK, and probably they won’t ever be 100% but I am capable of managing it. I’ve just got to continue to take small steps forwards, and not let myself take too many steps back.

→ Today, for instance, was a good day. I woke up early, went to see a lecturer and was disappointed to find they weren’t there. I went to sit down at one of the university seating areas – getting myself a good spot on one of the soft couches they have there. I set myself up and did some work, meanwhile emailing the lecturer I wanted to go see- who kindly responded promptly to all my questions. I had a lecture, and I managed to ask a question. (Although I did stammer…sigh.) Then I went into town, settled down at Starbucks with a half price frappucino – made dairy free by the very lovely barristers who were perfectly fine about answering my queries about the dairy in their products even when busy. I did a bit more revision, killing time before going to get my brows waxed at Benefit. The girl who did my brows did a great job – and she did it quickly, without any unnecessary awkward small talk. Very efficient. Afterwards she put on sweet almond oil and some spot treatments – during the wax my skin ripped and started to bleed, which was embarrassing. My skin is in a bad way right now – it did not react well to experiencing winter again. Its super combination right now – painful and itchy its so dry in places, and terribly oily and spotty in others. I tried some boots botanics extra nourishing moisturiser that did nothing, my trusty laneige hydra cream, nothing, some super fancy expensive extra moisturising sooryehan products, a bit better but still not enough. I then bought some avene hydrating moisturiser on Saturday, which was too light, so today I went back and bought the richer version. What’s another £14 for a tiny tube. I’m aware I don’t have the money. I’m aware I’m falling into the no.1 skincare trap – skin freaks out, you freak out, start experimenting like crazy with products, make it worse. Well, we’ll see. At least my brows look awesome. I also painted my nails, and I recently bought a few items of new clothing. So much money, but it made me feel good, it makes me feel better to take care of myself and to put effort in to my appearance like this. Now I just need to suck it up and do the dreaded jeans shopping – once I stop trying to squeeze myself into my old pants, I think I’ll have an easier time accepting my new weight. (It is sadly just my hips and stomach that have expanded.)

→ First exam Saturday. Revision progresses slowly. I’m bored.

Post Title: Kim Wilkins, The Resurrectionists

“It was like being in a maze where every path you choose is the wrong one, every path leads to a dead end. Except for one. There’s one path, which is the way out. I just needed to find it.”

It’s currently 2:30am.

I don’t want to fall asleep. I know it would be better for me to do something about my sleeping habits – to go to bed at a reasonable time and to wake up at a reasonable time, but I find myself desperately putting off going to bed. Even when I finally go to bed, I clutch at my smartphone, finding things to do. I can never ever fall asleep and I dislike just lying there, staring at the ceiling, at the walls, at my alarm clock where every minute lingers and its always too early or too late, still awake, always awake, trapped in my thoughts. I’ve started going to bed at 5am some nights, which is just crazy. I stay awake, wanting to exhaust myself. I feel so tired all the time, but that relaxed, sleepy state is always out of reach. Needless to say, Things still aren’t great. I really tried to have a better week though, and I sort of succeeded. I’m finally starting to get stuck into revision – I don’t think I’m doing enough, but then I never think I can do enough. I try and comfort myself that at least I’m doing something now.

The formal thesis draft was submitted last week and somehow my group members and I managed to pull it together into something much better than it was – although I’m still worried about it. We’ve not heard back from anyone. To be honest, I’m not sure how or when we will. And the days are ticking towards the final draft deadline and I think – surely its not ready to be submitted once and for all? Its just crazy, that somehow we’ve managed to put together a 60 page essay. Its my first time putting together such a long essay and it was certainly an experience – its hard, putting together something so long. Its so easy to derail, to go off on tangents. Its hard to make it cohesive and with a clear argument. I really wonder what the moderators think. My thesis is 30 credits, it could be the difference between a 2.2 and a 2.1. Needless to say, I want the 2.1.

I cannot believe I have to write a whole thesis myself next year. I’m not sure there’s anything I’m passionate enough to write 60 pages on it, which is probably the most distressing thing. Trying not think of that one.

My exams are also creeping closer. I’m trying not to think about that, too. Only two exams, yet it takes tremendous willpower to get any revision done. How on earth did I manage with 6 exams last semester? I feel terribly lazy. It feels terribly pointless. I think, well I have a 2.1 and I couldn’t even get a job so what’s the point of keeping up that standard? I feel utterly defeated by my failure. I know I’m supposed to learn from it and move the hell on, but I’m fairly tired. And I’m bored. Studying is really boring. My mind just wanders off, I can’t focus. Its the same as the sleep situation – its impossible me to really immerse myself in any one task. Its hard to get my thought to shut down, so that I can focus, or relax.

At the end of the day, the downside is that there’s just over a month left of everything. But that is the upside too. Just a month or so, and then I’ve got the rest of the summer stretching before me. So I’m not working, or got any plans beside. I’ll take the opportunity to enjoy the time off – it is after all my last free summer. The last summer I have to cling to being a child without any responsibilities. The next summer I’ll be a graduate and who knows what will be awaiting me then – I doubt its going to be pleasant, at the rate that some graduates get jobs. (This year, I let myself hope I wouldn’t be one of them, next year I’m not going to be so reckless.) For now, I’ve got this time to look forward to. A whole summer in my own space, a whole summer to relax and hopefully heal.

I’m struggling with my eating disorder right now. For a while it was going really well, but I crashed recently, slipping back into bad habits and its been hard trying to get myself back on track. I guess its linked to my low mood, this feeling of what’s the point? that tinges everything.

The other thing is: I’ve gained weight. I’ve gained a lot of weight in fact- for the first time since I was a child you could probably use the word chubby to describe me. Its unfair, I think. I’m eating better and doing more exercise and yet, I’ve gained weight. I’m struggling to accept it. I do not want to accept it. Yet the only way I can ever get myself to where I was is to starve myself. Why do I have to have the sort of body that only looks the way I want when I mistreat it? Why can’t I exercise, eat properly and be skinny? I want to fit into a a size 8, a size 10 at the max like I used to. Now I have to squeeze myself into a size 12 and I hate myself. I’m doing thing properly, for the most part. I’m trying to treat my body better. So why? I really hate it. I run my hands over my body and where there used to be the outlines of bone, there’s only the softness of fat. You can pinch my skin now, hold on. Its fascinating, in a grotesque way. My CBT modules tells me to love my body. I’m not quite sure how to go about doing that, when all my clothes don’t fit, and I feel all squishy, and I have all these curves in all the wrong places. I used to have the ideal figure – tall, skinny, no curves. Sure, I got that way because I was depressed and barely eating, but it felt good. It felt like the one thing I had – I was unhappy, I hated my personality, my skin was terrible, but I was thin. That really meant something to me. The fact that I’ve gained weight now just feels like another thing out of control, another thing that isn’t the way I want it to be. Why, I think. Why. I’m wrestling with myself – with the part of me that wants to better, to sort out my weird, distorted relationship with food (and all the things that come with it) and the part of me that just wants to give up – to just go back to the ways things were. I was thin then, at least.

I have my last therapy appointment on Wednesday. I’m fairly dreading it. I really liked my first therapy sessions, but now it feels like I’ve not made enough progress, that I’ve failed at getting better. I feel embarrassed by this, ashamed at facing my therapist like this. I don’t even know. I just feel like a bit of a failure right now. Its hard not to look at other people your age and wonder how they are so well put together. Oh, you know beyond the selfishness of your own sadness that they are probably struggling too in their own ways, they are just as insecure perhaps, that they basically have their own private demons to deal with most likely, but its so easy to slip into this feeling of being somewhat inadequate. Of being 21, and failing at it miserably. This summer I turn 22. I’ll have finished up my third year of university. The future comes ever closer, adulthood looms, and I do not feel ready for it at all.

Post Title: Elizabeth Haynes - Human Remains

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