The Quiet 2010

Last year was a particularly strange year for me. Quite a lot happened, and by November I was a bit of a shell. I didn’t write many blogs last year because I was disinterested, paranoid and extremely depressed. I was ok in the first quarter of the year. Despite my job at my previous employer coming to an end (I found a new job after my new manager, an anorexic cow with stomach hair made every day at work absolute hell) and going through the pressure of starting a new job, my grandfather dying, family feuds, a break up with someone I loved but had a turbulent relationship with and my weight issues, I got through the first quarter ok. But then the cracks started to show.

Another break up in June and mix-ups with my medication left me… well, not well at all. I have suffered from depression my whole life, but what happened next is something I had never experienced before. I stopped seeing anyone. I stopped caring about looking after myself. I didn’t clean my flat. I skipped meals. I slept all the time (once for 22 hours). I would sit crying in the dark and then just crawl into bed in the early evening for fear of what I might do to myself if I stayed awake. I pushed everyone I cared about and who cared about me away. I had suicidal thoughts every single day, to the point where I would start counting the tablets in my flat to see if I had enough. I started self harming again. I started vomiting again. I chose a spot perfect for tying a noose that could carry my weight and where I wouldn’t be discovered for some time. I cut people out of my life. I cut myself off from life.

I had a few friends who were there for me, mostly my ex who had left me in March. I felt safe when I was with him. I think he fulfilled a kind of mothering role that I had craves so much since I was 10. Feeling safe is the driving force behind most of my past. Drugs, eating disorder, serial relationships – all for safety. Even though I was incredibly messed up, he stuck with me, but when we cemented the relationship again it only lasted 3 weeks. That was 3 months ago today, the 17th of October. I still love him, and I still miss him every day, but a big part of me hates him for leaving me again. I wanted us to last a really long time. I wish things were different but they aren’t.

So by the 15th of November I wasn’t keeping any food down and my arm was resembling a patchwork quilt from all the self harming. Everything had come to a head, and I wasn’t sane enough to be alone or look after myself. I hadn’t been for some time. That was when my therapist and psychiatrist admitted me to the Eating Disorder Unit at a psychiatric hospital for three weeks.

My time in there was well spent. I worked hard on myself. It took me two weeks to cry, but when I started in a group one day, I didn’t stop for a few hours. I was put on lithium too, a mood stabiliser. Even though I am diagnosed Bipolar 2, my shrink says there is hope for me to be free from it without meds eventually. I guess we’ll see.

So now I am eating properly and have been for two months. I am exercising, going to support meetings and generally doing a lot better. The non-existent self esteem is still a problem but I guess we’ll work on it.

So this is me, hoping that 2011 is a better year than 2010. Pretty much everyone I speak to had a ridiculously terrible 2010.


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