Times Like This

Woken up 4am Thursday morning with a pain in my left hand side. A stabbing pain that made me scream and cry and call out for my flatmates.

8 hours later and the hospital sent me home. Hand in hand with some paracetamol, they couldn’t work out what had happened to me and said I remained a ‘mystery’. Forever a mystery, even a friend commented that I am ‘always in hospital’. Times like this make me feel numb, never knowing what’s wrong other than that there is always something wrong with me. Times like this make me feel broken.

5am Friday morning and the pain was back. So was the hospital and the doctors claiming there was nothing wrong with me. I cried. My boyfriend was there to hold my hand this time and he held it tight as I cried. All of the pain, all the exhaustion and all the stress of being told I was ‘fine’. I’m always fine…

They sent me home with codeine this time and it seemed to do the trick but on Friday the pain never left and neither did he. He stayed the day and rang the doctor who told us to go back on the evening. And so we did. He held me tight and he took me back. He held me when the pain came back and he wiped away every tear. He held my hand whilst they did all their tests and he really helped that fear. He calmed me down. Though I could tell he was panicking, he knew what I needed and he stroked my hair, held me again trying to help me sleep.

Saturday morning, 2am, and the doctors had found me a bed but he wasn’t allowed to stay. That was the first time the fear came back and each time the pain woke me up I felt more scared, more lonely. Counting down the hours minutes and seconds until 2pm so that he could come back and hold me.

On regular morphine now, they ran more tests and eventually found the cause. Inflammation and water on my kidneys along with this teeny tiny 3mm stone. So again, but with an appointment for a specialist next week, they sent me home.

I didn’t expect him to stay. 3 days of hospital was surely enough but he spent Sunday evening with me. Helping me with every little thing. The smallest things that mean the most. I could tell he was worried but together we got through it. He kept me distracted when I needed it the most and he held me when the pain made me cry all over again. He set alarms on his phone to make sure I had medication at 12am, 4am and 8am. He even worked from home at my flat on Monday just to keep an eye.

Times like that make me realise just how much he cares. I’ve always known it, always sure of it but times like this make me feel loved. Spend so much time feeling worthless and unloved and times like that make me feel so wrong. Telling me he ‘wanted his Len back’ made me realise how much he really does. How much he wants me to get better in all aspects . Feeling cared for, loved. All I could want but it means so much more than it did before.

Right where I needed him when I needed him and yet he went above and beyond what I could have ever expected.

Times like this make me want to get better with my ED. What if that ‘one last purge’ made me this ill? It’s been a while but kidney damage can be caused by bulimia so what if…almost not worth thinking about but it is additional motivation.

Times like this, thanks to the illness but mainly thanks to him, make me want to become even healthier.

 

Welcome Home 


I’ve had this blank page staring back at me the past few days. Want to write, know that I do, but about what? I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

My head is spinning with a thousand questions, so much so I won’t allow myself to even take a step back and appreciate how well the past three weeks have gone. I’ve not weighed myself at all and I don’t feel as much of a need to. Part of me thinks that shows massive progression but the other part tells me its because I’m scared to see the number, that I’m bound to have gained weight.

Every time I think I’ve made steps forward that voice simply tells me I haven’t. It downplays my success. I’ve not purged for more than 3 weeks…but that’s probably because I’ve been with other people, not because I’ve gotten stronger…

He wants to be with me. Says that he does. Says that he really likes me. But I don’t know. What if I’m setting myself up for yet another failure. Am I weak for going back? Or am I making the right choice by trying to work through whatever happened? But what did happen? I don’t know. I still don’t get it, I still can’t process it because he hasn’t given me a reason as to why he did what he did.

And my head keeps spinning.

When I’m with him, its perfect. As though nothing happened. But when I’m alone I just think of all that pain he brought to that Sunday a few weeks ago.

He said after a really long (and I mean really long) relationship he’s scared of picking the wrong person. He described it as akin to a mental health issue, that he panicked and almost couldn’t control the things he was saying. I can half understand that, even though none of my friends do.

But surely that means I’m the wrong person? I mean, of course I am. No matter how many steps I move forward nor how many achievements I make, I have so many failures and broken pieces of me that can never be forgotten.

Failures and broken pieces that are rooted in a bastard of an eating disorder.

Of course I would never be right.

Of course, each time someone ‘genuine’ comes along, they soon enough realise I’m not right.

Why would I be?

Does this mean he’s just going to end it another day in the future? Right now, he is right for me. I don’t believe its healthy to look too far into the future regarding relationships too soon but am I just here, making him better for the next one to come along? Just like always.

Always setting them up to treat the next one better.

For once I thought I was finally getting treated better.

I just don’t know anymore.

But he does treat me right. One stupid afternoon, one epic mind fuck but everything else feels incredibly normal and perfect. I can’t spend a relationship second guessing everything…just like I can’t spend my recovery second guessing every step forward that I make.

No more second guessing, back to going with the flow, I suppose.


Twitter: @elenip92

Instagram: @elenipapa92

The Dash

Your Life Is Made of Two Dates and a Dash. Make the Most of the Dash

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I don’t want to be at the end of my stretch and look back and realise I lost some of the best years of my life to my eating disorder. I don’t want to look back and see things I missed out on because the demon stopped me from doing them.

Equally, I don’t want to look back and realise I stopped myself from being happy. Stopped myself from being me. I want someone to be proud to have me. Not because I’m pretty or skinny, as my ED tells me, but because they value me as a person. Now, I do know people I have been with and dated did like me as a person but naturally I am well aware of those who abused and took advantage of me. Whilst, its so unfortunate, that’s life.

I want to look back and be confident my decisions were right. I want to look back and see pictures like the one I’ve shared; where I look Strong not Skinny.

I want to make the most of this ‘dash’. I want to keep progressing the way that I am and not keep falling back. Those people who took advantage or did not appreciate me will eventually realise what they’ve missed out on. I don’t think I’ve felt this happy or confident and it truly is a lovely place to be. I’m not skinny. I’m strong.

Isn’t it crazy how we can look back a year ago and realise how much everything has changed? The amount of people that have left your life, entered, and those that have stayed. The memories you won’t forget and the moments you wish you could. Everything. It is crazy how all that happened in one year. It’s made me realise too, you know you really love someone when you can’t hate them no matter how much they broke your heart.

I just want to make the most of these amazing opportunities I have right now and starving and purging isn’t going to allow that. Keep eating moderately and exercising well. I’ve never felt happier or prouder of my progress than I do right now.

 

Worthless

I feel as if I’m in a constant state of numbness. Nothing is getting me out of this rut I’m in and so many thoughts are running through my head. It’s starting to get clearer but that doesn’t mean the pain goes away, in fact, it makes it hurt more.

He tried to convince me that I, myself, wasn’t the problem. Rather, it was the expectations of a relationship that were the problem. It’s still so hard because that doesn’t make it feel much better. He said it was things he couldn’t change about himself, not me. That little voice whispers in my head, if I was perfect he would have wanted to do those things, that the root of the problem was still me.

I just want to be looked after. So many years of hurt, mental abuse, being used by friends, boys, family and the like whilst always being there to help others has made me into the person who doesn’t appreciate her self-worth.

I always feel like I don’t deserve to have someone who goes above and beyond to show me how much I’m worth but deep down I really want that. Don’t we all want that? Am I wrong to want to be shown how much I’m worth? Is it wrong to like romance these days? Am I expecting too much?

Will I never be good enough or right for anyone?

Surely I’m worth something? Surely I’m worth someone’s efforts?

Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m stupid to want some romantic treatment. I don’t need to be treated as someone’s princess, I’m not like that, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice for someone to go that complete extra mile.

Don’t I deserve that type of effort?

I thought he was perfect for me. I tried to show him, I cooked and cleaned, I tried to find free stuff to do, I don’t think I pressured him to take me out, I wanted him to but I tried not to ask too much and I never cared he was financially struggling and so I tried to suggest cheap things. I couldn’t bear for him to constantly have wet feet with his ruined trainers so I got him new ones. I tried to balance my money so I didn’t have to ask him too much but that meant when I did ask we were both financially stretched. I tried so hard to get into football so I could enjoy it with him. I got him a card for our 1 year but never gave it to him because I knew he hadn’t got me something and I didn’t want him to panic or feel bad, so I ignored that and just hid what I bought because I loved him more than a card. I knew he was stressed for some reason back then but he wouldn’t tell me. I actually thought he was the one for me and I feel really stupid for letting myself think that.

I feel like I should have known better. I was so dubious at first because he had told me he didn’t like relationships and I was scared but I ignored that because I thought he was perfect for me. I fell in love so fast and I fell in love with someone who I do believe genuinely loved me but who doesn’t like relationships. I should’ve known it would end badly. That we would both end up hurt.

I know he cares about me, I know he’s not lied about ever loving me or that he still does. There was so much good in the relationship too, he wasn’t like the others, he was so much different. I don’t forget how much he helped me, how he reacted to my eating disorder, how great he was. I think that could be why it hurts more, because he’s a good person, just not a relationship person.

He’s trying to be so nice to me. He’s trying to tell me its not me, that there’s nothing wrong with me but its so hard not to take such a comment personally. It’s so hard to not feel this pain. The pain of feeling worthless.

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Brain = 1, Heart = 0

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I should have listened to my brain instead of following my heart. It was right, it’s always right.

I’ll be okay, deep down I knew it was coming and I know it was right. My brain knows but my heart aches.

It was a nice visit nonetheless and being friendly is fine with me and don’t get me wrong because I knew it was too soon for any sort of reconciliation. I know that everything is still too raw for both of us and that there could be potential in the future, but there’s just one little thing that’s stuck in my head. I know where I stand right now and that’s fine but he said that being out of a relationship made him realise how stressed he was being in one.

That he loved me but didn’t realise until now that being in a relationship stressed him out.

Ouch.

Ouch.

I had no idea he was unhappy with me. I mean, I thought he was distant and didn’t want to be with me but he told me he did and I believe him.

I thought he wasn’t treating me like a girlfriend and now I know why. He was unhappy with me. He didn’t like the relationship we were in and was waiting for me to move to London so things would get better. But he never told me that back then. He wouldn’t tell me why he seemed so stressed out but now I know.

It was me.

I was the problem.

It makes so much sense now.

Everything makes so much more sense. Deep down he didn’t want me and yes he wanted to stay when we broke up, he wanted to try harder than I could but now that its over he mustn’t have been truly happy in the first place.

That’s probably why he wasn’t telling me why he was stressed out and being distant. Because I was the problem. I’m always the problem. I know I’m too much, I know I’m damaged and have a million things wrong with me. I also know he loved me, he really did but I mustn’t have been good for him either.

I was so unhappy back then too because I felt he wouldn’t open up to me and talk and all I wanted to do was help him with whatever was stressing him out. Now I realise it was me. It was being committed to me at that time that stressed him out.

I caused everything to go wrong. Every last detail was my fault.

I’m not trying to play the victim. He would have been so hurt to to hear that I was unhappy and had reached the decision I reached 2 months ago. But I was  unhappy because I was convinced he didn’t like me being his girlfriend. I just really wish he had told me what the problem was. Rather than my mind jumping to conclusions…then again…surely my mind jumped to the right conclusion? That he wasn’t happy with me.

There was something wrong with me. Being with me made him distant and that caused the feelings I had. There’s something wrong with being with me. Something wrong with me. That’s how it feels right now. That’s how much it hurts right now.

It hurts so much to know that I caused so much stress. That he now realises being in a relationship was too much. I feel like I made him so unhappy and I can’t believe I did that.  I really love him and I wanted it to get better, I couldn’t understand what was going wrong but now I know.

I don’t know what I did wrong.

But it was me. I was doing something wrong. Being in a relationship was wrong. He would never have meant to hurt me with his words. Maybe they weren’t meant to come out the way they did.

I’ve never been good enough for many things. We had a lovely time hanging out and I do want to stay close but that realisation has really hurt me. It’s a different kind of pain right now. I’m not sure how to cope with this type of pain.

I should have listened to my brain.

My heart is so much more broken than before.

Heartache, Heartbreak

I just feel so lonely, struggling to pick myself up. These past two months have been hell and I’ve never had to cope with so many different yet equally hard situations.

And its as if there isn’t anyone there. I feel like I’m struggling to get through this and I don’t know how to make it better. I’ve resorted to unreal measures to purge and I feel so ashamed of myself. There’s so much hurt, so many doubts, so much self-hatred that the only way out is to purge.

I hate myself, I hate everything about every decision I made, I feel so dirty and horrible and hate every piece of me that went wrong the past 8 weeks. I hate everything. I hate this feeling, I hate the purging, but I hate not purging as well. I feel like its the only thing that can calm me down at the end of the day, when the stress has accumulated over the passing hours.

I’m so stressed out and I just hate everything about myself right now. I hate the decisions I made and how they hurt someone, someone so special. But the decisions have hurt me too. No one seems to realise just how much I’m hurting, how hard the struggle is, how every day has become so dark and filled with hate. I’m hurting so much and I can’t keep this brave face on much longer.

They said it was the right thing. They told me it was the correct choice. But now that its done, now that there’s no way back, why do I feel so broken?

Be mine

I feel terrible saying this because of what happened last week. I tried to talk about it but it was still too raw, and he felt I was justifying what happened. I do understand that.

But I want to go out. I want my boyfriend to come with me.

To be proud to come out with me. To want to be seen holding my hand.

To show everyone that I’m his.

I hate going to parties and the like without him. Everyone asking why my boyfriend wouldn’t come with me.

I want to have romantic meals, or a walk in the park.

I want him to show me off to his friends and to let me show him off to mine.

I want to go to a party and dance with my boyfriend rather than dancing on my own.

I hate seeing other couples there, holding hands, dancing, cuddling, kissing.

I love him so why does he not want to come for a drink with me, to a party, to a BBQ. He doesn’t even have to pay for it.

Just come with me. Be with me. Outside of the flat.

I want to go to a party, have a drink and a dance but with him. Not with my friends…not having to stop guys from trying to dance with me.

And the more I drink the more I wish he could be there with me, dancing, holding my hand. Just there with me.

So I drink more.

I drank more.

But I have no argument. No leg to stand on. Not any more.

I want to be looked at as though I am the most beautiful girl in the world. I want him to hold my hand on the walk home. I want to be treated like I’m not something to be lost. I want him to be there and just know that he can’t be without me.

I want him to meet my friends and I want to meet his.

I want him to show how proud he is to be mine…

How proud he is, for me to be his…