Turning point?

I get mood swings… Big ones. I know that depression and ed’s do this to lots of people, so in my therapy session yesterday I was trying to be sarcastic and brush off the hard things that happened this week, and then it all came to a head. I find it hard to touch things that have been touched by others, and yesterday I completely froze when asked to pick the pen up off the table. My thoughts were so much that I couldn’t even hear them. I couldn’t move or talk. 

All of a sudden I was just so angry that I couldn’t pick up a fucking pen! It’s ridiculous! I then became more angry at myself for not being thin enough and for failing for years now at achieving that. I felt like if I couldn’t do anything right then why the hell am I alive. 

“What are you thinking right now?”

Me: I just want to die. 

“What would you do?”

Me: I have loads of meds. I want to take them all and end it. 

“Do you feel like you could reach out to someone later if this feeling continued?”

Me: I don’t think I want to. Not being here would end all the problems. I can’t continue having to do all these things when I don’t even have any control afterwards. 

“You are suffering and I think you need to talk more. We can’t talk now but I’m going to ask a colleague and then I think you need to go to the hospital. What do you think about that?”

Me: I don’t think anything. I’m sorry. 

I spent a long time in hospital yesterday and spoke to several people. The despair in that moment was too much to handle alone. Today I’m left with the shock of how my mood deteriorated so fast, and also how easily a suicidal thought became a solid idea in my mind. 

One of my biggest difficulties with recovery is my belief that I’m not sick enough to merit change, but I think yesterday was a turning point. I’m going to spend my whole life going through these crisis points if I can’t get better. I must be ill. 

No feelings, no joy, no… Nothing

Since Saturday I feel like I’m just not really here. Nothing is making me feel as excited or happy as it should. It’s difficult to engage in conversation when you feel cold and empty.
There’s no particular reason for it, other than being stuck in the same old habits over and over. The negative thoughts are just running my world right now, and I just want it to end.
I don’t want to have suicidal thoughts. They cause me guilt because I know there are precious, wonderful things in my life. But whether I want the thoughts or not, they are here.
I suppose it’s just the emotional pain of feeling like staying alive means signing up for a lifetime of sickness.

I’ll do it tomorrow…

You mustn’t allow yourself to go back to the ed clinic until you weigh less, or you only eat x calories a day, or you waist measure x cms.

I will eat better tomorrow.

I will do more exercise tomorrow.

I will be kind to myself tomorrow.

The past few years seem to have gone in a blur of plans to make things right; plans that are never carried out. I can’t count the number of times that I have quit therapy part way through, or refused help because of my refusal to be weighed. This one ginormous hurdle has dominated me and kept the grip of my eating disorder grow tighter.

The idea of another human being knowing and monitoring my weight fills me with utter dread. Even when I was being weighed regularly in the past, it never seemed to get easier. Then, months of cancelling doctors appointment followed and made way for the fear to grow. It has now been around 2 years since I last allowed somebody to weigh me.

In those two years, I have moved out of home, made new friends in a new city, found a new doctor, been having CBT therapy, and overdosed twice. In many ways I have had two years of very exciting opportunities, and also managed to convince some people that my recovery is going well. I think that I have become better at exhibiting “normal” behaviour, while continuing to be disordered and destructive when alone. My disorder has certainly changed- but not really for better or worse- it’s just different now because my whole life is different than when it all started god knows how many years ago!

Today has been emotional because my cbt ends very soon. The next stage is that my gp and therapist want me referred to the eating disorder service in my local area. From past experience with the ed clinic back at home, I know you can’t have the treatment without allowing them to monitor your weight. Puts me in a sticky spot….

I have been avoiding this for years, and I know that is massive sign of my disorder in itself, and I know that I’m going to have to do it to get better. But I also know that the last I was weighed, I took an overdose and researched suicide methods when the drugs didn’t kill me. Putting myself in that same situation is asking for that awful reaction all over again and I wonder if it’s really worth all the distress?

Then, there’s this little part of me that has been desperate to have somebody else take charge of my eating disorder, as that seems like a futile goal for me to do myself, and I also know that being taken on by the service would reduce my doubt over the severity of my illness. I think I’m going to say yes.

Oh god help me.