They all fall down...

Sunday, 10 March 2013

A grenade, an atom bomb, anything too close it will destroy. That is the nature of this disease. Spreading devastation in its wake. Slowly but surely all those with sense will run, move away from the danger. It is instinct to anyone with sense. I wish I could run from myself. Instead I am sat alone, surveying the mess I have caused. Why was I brought into this World? What is my purpose? This cannot be it. Please God say destruction is not my mission. I did not ask for this, I did not ask to appear; yet I cannot disappear without hurting those around me. There is no solution and I feel lost. Confused. Trapped in this body that does no good. This head that does not work. I have only myself to blame for all I have lost. I am a monster, I should have never been created. I do not deserve love, so what happened was right. I am unlovable.  Hate me. It would be best for everyone.
            I am burning, engulfed by the fire I created, my skin slowly blistering, my body disappearing, but the flames will not stop licking and there is no promise of water anymore. No hope of relief.
            I should’ve known no one loves a monster. Put down the heavy load and run for your life.

       This past six weeks has been tough and testing. I could not hack being an inpatient, being in the land of doom and gloom 24/7, I wasn’t sleeping and spent most of my time crying. Things were basically not good. So I cried for help and in they sent a very nice doctor to speak to me. I explained that I’d really like to go home and that I couldn’t handle any more. He stood, thinking for a bit and then told me that if that was how I felt…he may have to consider holding me under the mental health act, i.e. a section. He went on to tell me that my weight was exceptionally low and he couldn’t be sure of my safety. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. I was livid with this man I did not know even suggesting the mental health act and through my cries told him that it would not stand up if I were to argue against it as I was clearly of sound mind, I just have an eating disorder. I doubt my hysterical tears did much to prove this. I asked him to please go and get a second opinion. He did. He spoke to the consultant who knows me and knows eating disorders and I was granted bail. Thank God. I went home to my comfortable bed and slept and was happy…ish. Obviously that could not be it though, I was still not ‘fixed’, so a meeting took place a few days later. In that it was agreed, after much pleading from me, as well as my explanation that I honestly could not cope being there all day everyday, that I would be allowed to be a day patient. This means that I am in the unit 6 days a week, 10am-7:30pm. It is not ideal, I am still having to eat the horrible food. Ironic really, isn’t it? That on an eating disorder unit, we are being fed 3 meals and 3 snacks of hospital food. It is not nutritionally balanced, something that really bothers me, one girl told me that although prior to entering hospital her red blood cell count was fine, since starting the program she now is anemic. Really gives you a lot of faith in the system? I will also soon not be receiving individual therapy in three weeks time, due to the NHS budget cuts. Again, doesn’t seem like the smartest move. Pump me full of 3000 calories a day until I feel like a balloon and don’t help me deal with it? I know I should not complain, the nurses are kind and caring and I’m getting on well with a few of the other girls, but I cannot help it. It is very difficult to put your faith in something that seems to have such gaping issues. But I go, and it is reassuring my parents at least. My weight this month has not actually changed, its gone up, and then down, up and then down, but this is being attributed to stress, it’s been quite a tricky month for many reasons. All I can do is keep on trying. Push on.

For now that is all.

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