Every Picture...

... tells a story, right?

Right.

Seeing as I am having great difficulty in communicating some of the ways in which my head is dealing with the treatment here in the unit, I figured that perhaps I could use some pictures. 
Cop out?
Perhaps. But at least it's something; and something is better than nothing. 



When I came into this treatment centre, my sister (the anorexic one) sent me this bracelet. If you look closely, you'll see that the simple piece of thread is tied to a charm depicting a little bird. 
I haven't taken it off since I put it on. For me, the bird is representative of hope and freedom.

I think one of the hardest things in recovery is holding on to hope. Right now, despite my weight being up to 40.1 kilograms, I can't ever imagine being about to shake this illness off. 

But I have to hope.
I need it in my spinal fluid. I literally need it to strengthen my backbone. 
I need it to give me the strength to keep going. 
I need it like the world needs a horizon. My world needs a horizon. I think it's a need that every human being has. 
Trouble begins when the horizon isn't visible.

Bombshell

At around midday yesterday, unit staff announced the decision to reintroduce two much dreaded 'high energy' supplements into my meal plan.

The room around me blurred and whitened as my mind whirled into the shadow flecked vortex of spinning panic and dissociation.

Today I sit in relative calm.

The pain and the panic whirl around me but not within.

I discharged myself from the unit.

I'm not entirely sure how I will manage

but

failure is even less of an option that it was last week or the week before.

So:

The work of rebuilding continues.

A lot tougher and a little lonelier, but it continues nonetheless.

At the moment I am shuffling through rubble, feeling little more than dazed as I survey the extent of the wreckage and try to keep breathing through the swirling fusion of chalky dust and stone.

Being Here

I've made countless attempts to write a post here which might somehow capture the absolute rollercoaster of a journey I've been on in the last fortnight at the Eating Disorders Unit.

So far, all such efforts have been thwarted by a complete sense of overwhelming exhaustion when I try to string more than a few words together.

Suffice to say that the experience of being stuffed full of food at far too regular intervals between 10 and 4, has been almost intolerable and I have to admit, I have tried to cheat wherever possible.

I am like the naughty schoolgirls that I so often have to teach.

Only, I'm far more fragmented in many ways.

The rest of the time is spent in the group... doing group everything.

This has proved to be an interesting experience inasmuch as the strength of bonding occuring within the group and the incredible sense of love I have felt for these girls.

Overall, despite the feeding (and because they are new to open and therefore have not set up properly yet - and so no evening meals yet) I have lost weight.

Mainly this is muscle wastage. I can no longer run or even jog.

Climbing stairs is difficult.

I will write when I have more energy.

I'm sorry that I haven't kept up with other blogs lately.

It's all very, very tiring and overwhelming.