5am and I am awake angry. I got my period back and feel awful, and ate nearly 2000 calories today.
I finally believe that one of my legs is shorter than the other and don’t need to save up for a private orthotic doctor to tell me so. I am going to try and buy a proper insole to help my balance. Before, I thought that it was my vision causing this imbalance, or my supposed ear disease. It’s good that I finally feel confident in my own feelings about my body and don’t need reassurance from a GP who might put me on some waiting list for a year, while I wait in pain after exercising.
I hear screaming in my head sometimes, like I am back in a psychiatric unit, and am so angry. Why was I put in this awful place with disturbed people who constantly talked about their lives? Before being diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa, I had chatrooms online and coped with studying and working simultaneously. Sure, I might have been laughed at or bullied, but that goes on in real life situations too. At least online, you can block the people who don’t like, instead of being forced to share a 4 bedded room with people who sometimes annoy the crap out of you. Same people all the time, same stories, same crap to me. I am the same, since I have an Eating Disorder, and annoy other people too. I will never end up locked in our country’s biggest psychiatric unit though, where you need to drive through a load of gates or something, before you even get in there. The thoughts of that would be un-imaginable. I have worked too hard to progress to a psychiatric unit that is really like a jail. I was already in an enclosed space for years, drugged up to the last.
Being off medications means that I can finally think through French and German, my other languages besides English, and I would never go back on anti-psychotics that would prevent me from what I love. Language is communication. Speaking 3 languages means I can buy more books and read more, or travel more, and make more friends, if I am free from control from doctors and people who try to dictate me rather than help me in my life. I won’t stay stuck in some service where I am bullied by nurses and patients. I have had to bite my tongue several times to try not to scream at people. Or else, I was on too many medications and couldn’t say what I wanted to say.
In retrospect, I have no idea why I thought I had to make friends with people at least 20 years older than me. I am not their age, and don’t have the same interests a lot of the time. I feel betrayed by a lot of people. Instead of focusing on my own personal goals of moving abroad and studying further, finding work and settling in to my own life, I am plagued by my memory of being sectioned under a mental health act. I had been trying to run out of a hospital and the psychiatrist forced me to stay in, because apparently my Anorexia Nervosa was then “EDNOS”. I have heard of EDNOS and didn’t care. I weighed enough.
Thankfully, I will be receiving my information under the Freedom of Information Act. This will not be easy, but it might show me that I am not to blame for being stuck in a hospital for 6/7 years non-stop with the wrong treatment. Anorexics mostly over-exercise and being on bed rest all the time was awful. I was stuck in a wheelchair until I gained at least 12kg, and then for the final 2kg I was allowed walk. When I reached 50kg and was discharged, my legs hurt all the time after walking for even half a mile. University was a nightmare, climbing steps and just moving around. I looked fine and weighed a proper number, but I felt so unfit and fat. I thought that I would at least be able to exercise a lot after gaining over 13kg. I wanted to be tube fed and instead I was fed yoghurts every 2 hours all day while I had a nurse beside me 24/7.
Being force fed is torture. If people are going to do it, then why literally spoon feed someone the same thing all day while they sit beside you, laughing and joking, and talking about all the nice things they get to do when they get off work?
I have no respect for the assholes who gave me abuse any more.
If someone hates their job, then they should just quit. Being a psychiatric nurse doesn’t mean that you can act like the patient too or make stupid jokes to someone who is hallucinating.
I shouldn’t need to research Anorexia every day when I eat a normal amount and still feel shit for fear that some doctor is now going to come along and make up some new disordered label for me, and put me in to another hospital.
I gave all my thoughts and confessions about habits and behaviours relating to an Eating Disorder, and in return I get abuse off people. This is not fair.
You don’t bully someone you don’t understand, or know. You just don’t bully someone, full stop. If you were in secondary school, you could be suspended for bullying, or given detention. Back in primary school, we had to write 20 lines of “I must not…” if we did something inappropriate.
Maybe education has changed in Ireland and they aren’t as firm, and the younger people might understand respect a little better.
I’ve had a rough upbringing, from being smacked on the head with a hardback dictionary (off some substitute teacher no-one got along with) to being abused by an old man (and ending up in a unit) to being raped last year. I am frustrated and sometimes anxious or angry if someone treats me in a way that reminds me of traumatic times. If someone wants to support you, then they would realise not to act stupidly around you. Sudden movements involving body contact scare me so much. I don’t understand some jokes because growing up, or even still, people believe silly rumours.
Instead of having a new mental illness name put towards me, maybe I might ask for a brain scan to see if I have an actual crack somewhere in my skull, after my teacher bet me with the book. Being off medications is hard because my memory and cognition comes back in full force and I can start crying if something reminds me of something.
I was definitely told I was gifted as a child, but not really given support. So now, I am wondering do I have Autism or Asperger’s Syndrome, since Internet results point towards that. That can’t be true, in my eyes. Anorexics think very rigidly sometimes and have a lot of anxiety, and with traumatic memories, then maybe that is what gives me so much anxiety around certain situations.
I was told, also, that I had a photographic memory when I was growing up, and coming off medication, I am trying to see what that actually means. There are tests on some websites and then others claim that it doesn’t exist, which was nice to see.
If I could turn back time, I would have tried to enjoy my childhood and teenage years more, than focusing on test results for school or pleasing teachers by knowledge. Book smart doesn’t always mean street smart. We had one PE class per week, so it’s no wonder that a lot of us were bouncing out of our chairs during classes. I used to shake my leg all the time to try and burn extra calories, because I did study after school, from 4pm to 7pm. Maybe that’s why my right leg has actually ended up 1cm/1 inch shorter than the left.
I am still a Catholic but feel hurt by my upbringing. Things are a lot more liberal now, so I shouldn’t be judged by an illness or the past. I feel a constant need to apologise for things I did as a child or as a teenager, or a need to apologise 10 times for saying something stupid. Or a need to starve for cleansing my soul, sometimes (also for calories… it’s very complicated). If you pray sometimes, and try to do the right thing, then you don’t need to punish yourself.