253. Vomit

It had been building up. Nausea and shakyness took control tonight. It was not a planned purge, but instead an unavoidable, quick run to the bathroom vomit. A couple more followed in the same manner before bed..

Right now I’m in bed, having scoffed some zopi I feel less shaky, but blimey I’m wide awake.

There’s too much stuff circuling my head. Too much to type out.

Will things work out someday?

Loopy x

237. I made the call.

I was on the brink. I was alone and I was vulnerable so I called my CPN. By the time she called me back, I had calmed a little. I’m glad I phoned her though. I’m warming to her quickly and I’m getting more comfortable talking to her

But when I make these calls, they often ask; “what would make you feel better, or make things easier?”

Honestly I don’t know! There is no one thing that can be fixed to miracoulously cure me. It is, I guess a culmination of lots of little thongs. My hatred for my albinism, my struggles with my fear of gaining weight, my family isolation, my inability to drive,my emotionally absent, or rather equally drained partner, my stressful job, my mum guilt and my worries for little man, my feelings of worthlessness and incompetence, my head fuzz, forgetfulness and confusion (probably drug induced) and my inability to sleep.

There are 3 things right now that are probably slowly killing me. My dependence on zopiclone, my persistent self burning, and my regular binge/purge cycles.

Not one of these has yet come up in therapy, since losing K. This new therapist, although kind, is not the right fit for me.

How do I tell her?

Loopy x.

231. A jittery workout.

I’ve just burned a fair whack of calories during what I can only describe as an anxiety fueled workout. I’m quite jittery in the evenings of late, and this nervous tension needs an outlet. What I would give to kick Wilson again (old post I’m not insane;)

After 45 mins on the cross trainer, I proceeded to hit the spin bike with as much gusto as I could muster. I went at it hard for 15mins, sweat soaked through two layers. My skin flouresced as brightly as my luminous pink top.

On a positive note I think my hip could cope now with some light road cycling after my crash. Ariel (My bike) is now with our LBS and I’m awaiting the call to go and collect her.

Tired now.

Loop x

226. Psychology is exhausting.

And I don’t like breaking down in front of little man. That is a flaw in family therapy. I’m not sure I want to persist with this new lady. She’s really kind and comes across as caring and empathetic, but she’s not K. I want K back.

Also by it’s very nature the sessions bring up stuff that inexplicably can floor you. Do I have the strength for this?

Now that work is also fighting for space in my head, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. My moods are still erratic. My self doubts are still huge, and the lack of affection or intimacy in my relationship exasberbates the fact that I’m ugly and un desirable.

I can see an old pattern emerging, and although we’ve tried to male some positive changes I can’t help but feel the swells of hopelessness, loneliness and a career dissatisfaction that ive never felt before. Or atleast I’ve been questioning is this my final job?

Morale at work itself is noticeably low at the minute. To many expectation triclk8ng down from rooms so far removed from what it’s actually like to get bombarded daily by students, not in the lecture halls but in your office or through email. It just never stops , and they can unleash all matters of personal details that we can’t process or adequately.deal with. We can sign post to support services yes, but the waiting lists are horrendous.

I’m very tempted to start a psychology MSc.

Loopy x

220. Not quite road worthy.

Tonight I hit the gym for the first time since my crash. I could hold it off no longer. The inability to excercise has been incredibly frustrating. I can’t afford to rest too long or the weight will creep back on.

Tonight was a test of what my hip and back could handle. The limp home suggests, just a little less than I put them through. I was sensible, sticking to low impact machines, at a lower resistance than normal. I couldn’t wait to get on the spin bike, but the pain induced bolt upright position that I had to hold, suggests it will be some time yet before I’m road worthy.

Loopy x

213. Little white lies.

I couldn’t sleep, that part was true. I’m totally dependant on pills now. Audio books and zopiclone are the perfect combination, but without the zopiclone (or a prescribed alternatuve) my eyes remain open and my thoughts attack me.

“Did you do anything?” asked a caring NHS voice this morning. “No” I replied but in truth yesterday I was a little self destructive. I once again put straightening irons against my skin, until the flesh was white and leathery. The edges blistered immediately and now I’m dealing with the aftermath. I don’t really know why I did it.

In the evening myself and OH treated ourselves to a “Subway”; the chicken teriyaki on Italian herb and cheeses went down easily. Then the guilt took hold and I followed the ritual of drinking tea (to fill my gut with liquid), sneaking off to the bathroom, expelling some of the guilt, and washing my hands and around my mouth thoroughly with soap.

I don’t know why I lied this morning. I guess I felt like the truth would let him down. The truth would label me attention seeking. The truth would prove that I’m pathetic.

Loopy x.

210. Clothes shopping.

As I trecked through outlets I could sense the feeling rise. That knot in my gut that comes with, just kill me now. I’ve always hated shopping. There are some practical reasons (can’t easily read labels, don’t like crowds, always feel like I’m being stared at) why I hate it, but it’s more than that.

I’m going back to work however, and the trainers and hoodies that have become my mainstay, don’t exactly ooze professionalism.

Firstly, i’ve never understood the lighting in dressing rooms. Can we have 10,000 lumens please, but not above your head. Oh no; these should form a strip along each mirror edge so that your necessary squinting masks how groteques you look in that ensamble.

What if you’re in the hunt for something a little sexy. Satin maybe that’s sleek and contours every curve, something for your hubbies eyes only.

This lighting just won’t do. I need those tea candles and a bottle of merlot, that give even Jabba the hut come hither eyes and a sultry demure.

NOPE full beams please, so that you look like your morbidly obese gran, who has a grimace indicating that she may have just pooped herself, and her skin a little ragged, because they didn’t have fancy creams in her day. They used wire wool to exfoliate!!

And what’s with sizes anyway??? They should just rip off all the labels and have rows of super skinny, kinda skinny but could lose a few lbs, a little excess baggage and finally; sorry love,we’re going to need more material!!!!

I pulled on a pair of size 10 trousers, too big; “oh my,! well I have been working out

Size 8 winning!!!!, but oh dear you”re obviously a few inches shy of 6 ft 4 glamoererous. Let’s try it in a short, shall we? They were clearly expecting dwarfism. Outlets nowadays have to be so careful, politically correct and inclusive

They cater for all body types, but only if you arrive at the crack of dawn just as shelves are being stocked to scoop up that 1 solidary item thats in your size.

“Oh store assistant, can I have these all in a regular 8 please (they can be tailired later)” I mean come on, I’m gorgeous, I’m glamerous, I’m positively glowing……….

10 minutes later, I’d pulled of some moves that Beth Tweddle and Michelle Kwan would be proud off. “Oh store assistant, I’m…………….I’m STUCK!!!!!!!….and I fear only a large tub of petroleum jelly shall set me free!!

I shall have to delve deep into the reccesses of my wardrobe, as I left the stores defeated, deflated and with just a little less self esteem than I’d arrived with.

And to think, people actually do this for fun????

Loopy x