Dear diary

People have been really receptive to me today. Kind, genuine and like-minded people. And it has all made such a difference. It is like I’m living a different life. One without stupid bullying therapists, one without constant paranoid thoughts. One with lots of self care and conversations that have given my shrunken brain some rehydration.

My best friend achieved something amazing yesterday and it has actually given ME such a lift?! To see her so energised, happy and deservedly pleased has really helped me to connect with those things that do the same for me.

Though I also fear some of this is an anorexic high. Probably unsurprisingly given the week this has become, I have lost weight again. I am pleased about that, there’s no denying it. Its a fix of the anorexia drug that I have been craving.

I am just happy to feel something remotely positive tonight even if its come from a less than ideal source.

Further to the last post

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Thanks to the ed therapist ringing and emailing Cat in a panic, there is now even more evidence that this woman has acted in an appalling manner and needs her fitness to practice examined.

She tried to deny sending those undeliverable messages, of course, saying to Cat she had got her friend to block me (because that is how therapists end things nowadays dont you know?)

I can’t be bothered to explain the intricate details but suffice to say I have evidence she DIDNT block me, quite the opposite, she was replying to every one. (Individually, because when i let her know that the “sent from samsung mobile” signature gave her away, she merely replied having taken the signature off). Whether all this was because she panicked or was purposefully trying to wind me up is by the by. Its unprofessional, at best.

So once I’ve had a couple of days break from it I shall write that fitness to practice concern to her registering body. Cat even gave her ample opportunity to apologise to me which she didn’t take her up on. If she had apologised perhaps I wouldn’t have gone any further, perhaps. With no apology and only lies as an explanation I have no choice.

She did let Cat know she has lifted the (fake) block so I could email her one final time as “closure”. So I did. Outlining every single point she tripped up, outlining every single lie (and giving evidence), and letting her know that the lack of apology and admittance to what she has done will be included in my complaint to UKCP.

Thank you to my partner, my friend M and of course Cat for helping me work through the fuck tonne of triggers this has all left me with. Thank you to you all who commented with support, it was very much appreciated.

When the T can’t let go..?

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So there we have it.

Usually it is the CLIENT that has a problem with endings, not the therapist.

After further attitude-ridden emails from the ED therapist I sent her a polite email to say thanks for the consultation but I shall no longer need her services.  I requested at the end that she didn’t reply to this email as emails from her were beginning to feel intrusive.

What did she do? Email back.

BUT not only that- she emailed back with the words “this email is undeliverable”.  Yes, SHE emailed back to say the email she has just clicked ‘reply’ to, is undeliverable.  How do I know? Well genuine undeliverable emails come with all sorts of jargon.  It also doesn’t come with the signature at the end “sent from my Samsung Mobile”.

I knew this straight away so I kept emailing it to her in response.  Every single time I’d get the same response.  Sometimes 2 minutes later, sometimes half an hour.  I presume she was too busy watering her cats or something to reply straight away some times.  We did this about 5 times over an hour until I realised that if she is as unprofessional, immature and manipulative to do this 5 times, she isn’t going to stop, and I’d had enough.

I did send her one final email though saying that I know it’s coming from her, I know she’s got my final email to say that I, basically, never want to see her again, so she can stop with this idiocy.  I didn’t get a “this email is undeliverable” response to that one.  And I have made it so that any further emails I get from her go straight in the bin.

Cat is shocked.  Genuinely shocked.  She says she feels like she has sent her child off to a childminder without researching them properly and the childminder has turned out to be awful.  She just keeps saying she is sorry and she had no idea and she should have.  This is the scary world of professionals.  Underneath all their “20 years experience under the NHS!”, “own successful private practice!”, “specialist in eating disorders!”, still lies a person with issues.  Sometimes, a person with issues, who needs therapy more than all of their clients do put together.

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I went to sleep last night writing an email to that ED woman. According to Cat it is definitely a “forthright” email, but not rude. I pretty much asked her for some respect. Respect that just because I have anorexia doesn’t mean I am not wise enough (and stupid enough sometimes) to be completely honest in my life. I wrote a huge list of things she doesn’t know about me therefore shouldn’t make such sweeping assumptions. I wrote a list trying to JUSTIFY my weight (all the while thinking, wtf?) I let her know that if she can’t see me as anyone but a tearaway manipulative anorexic then I’m not interested in working with her.

She hasn’t replied. Its Sunday, so that isn’t surprising. I just hope her reply is as calm and thought through as mine was as her impulses in conversation are a little bit off. (The speed she was replying back to me on Friday left very little room for any thought her end). 

I have been very emotional this last week or so. Tonight it finally felt like the festering spot of emotions was ready to burst and out came the lot.

For mother’s day this year I got Cat this small square of chocolate personalised with ‘foster mum’ written on it in icing. Cat is a raving chocaholic. Can’t keep chocolate in her presence for more than a few hours without it being devoured. She still hasn’t eaten it though. She is hanging onto it and oddly enough the emotions behind her hanging onto it, were the same emotions behind me being an emotional mess. If that doesn’t show a deep connection, I don’t know what does.

I don’t disbelieve you… but…

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Anyone who feels the need to say “I don’t disbelieve you… but…” doesn’t actually believe you.

I did something HUGE today.  MASSIVE.  The ED woman emailed me an example days food intake for someone without an eating disorder.  I gave it a read and instead of freaking out because actually I’m really not that far off, I emailed her back with an example days food intake for ME.  I painfully wrote it all out (anyone knowing THAT I eat, let alone WHAT I eat is so shameful for me), took a deep breath and put at the end: “Do you believe me?” 

Her response?…..

“I don’t disbelieve you…. but….”

She doesn’t disbelieve me but says that she knows anorexia is sly and tenacious and I’m probably not finishing my meals, or I’m losing bits of it somehow.  “But thank you for telling me”.  

What I don’t understand is why people think that just because I struggle with anorexia, it means I must be lying, manipulating things, hiding things.  We have already established in our first assessment consultation that I DON’T purge, I DON’T take laxatives, I DON’T over-exercise, I DON’T chew and spit, I DON’T hide food in napkins…. so I wrote that in an email back to her and said “I don’t know how else I could lose bits of what I’m telling you that I’m eating”.   

I HATE being disbelieved.  But more than that, I hate being disbelieved when someone is telling you that they actually BELIEVE you.  What a head fuck that is.

What is she secretly telling me? That if I am eating all that food then I can’t possibly be anorexic? That I wouldn’t be the weight that I am if I was genuinely eating all of what I wrote down? Well sorry, but I do genuinely eat all that I wrote down, and I am genuinely the weight that I am!

Her response to my email: “By leaving bits on your plate by not scraping it clean? Leaving crusts? I don’t know! And perhaps you don’t!” 

If you don’t know then don’t bloody assume.  NOTHING that I wrote in that email even has crusts.  I don’t think not scraping a plate clean is going to do much calorific damage.  I AM EATING WHAT I SAY I AM EATING.  If she can’t make allowances for the fact that perhaps I have a high metabolism, perhaps the fact I am anxious a lot and stressed burns off calories… if she can’t just take me at face value… I am not going back to the NHS way of treating someone with anorexia.  ‘Don’t believe them.  They will be lying.  They will be shoving weights in their knickers to fool you.  They will be hoarding food in their cheeks like a hamster and spitting it in your shoes.’

I am having to contain my offloading to this blog because I am so frustrated, angry, and offended that it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to continue this email conversation with her.

Dear diary

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I woke up at 3am because of rain dripping on the window sill and its now gone 5am and I am still awake.

I woke up with lazy eye again. It always freaks me out. It basically means I see double of everything because one eye is off to the side. My eyes are achey and sore and my way of fixing that is to stare at a small phone screen for hours ;) I’m so intelligent.

It usually happens if I’ve recently had one of my dissociative seizure type reactions. I don’t remember having one recently… but therapy has been about trauma processing and my eyes naturally want to do emdr on myself when I’m processing, or trying to get away from trauma.

Apparently my GP wants to see me this week. I guess she has finally got word that I cancelled my NHS mental health assessment. I will have no trouble saying to her that the reason I cancelled (at least part of it) is because she did a 180 on me. One week- ‘oh totally, this is serious, you need help’ and the next- ‘I’ve spoken to [another GP] and you’re not as bad as you think you are’.

Because being told that I am not sick enough is a.) going to go down well and b.) going to set me up nicely in asking for help from the NHS again. Sarcasm, indeed.

I get that GP’s perhaps should be excused for bumbling mistakes as they’re busy and not specialists in what you’re talking about but I think feedback is important. I hope I have the assertiveness to be honest when I see her, without being unwillingly rude.

Never tell someone with an eating disorder that they’re not sick enough. Important life lesson I think. Its not like she is never going to have interactions with an ED sufferer again.

Session with ED specialist (L): 1

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Prescription: one banana a day (ON TOP of my current consumption)
Homework: a semi-food diary (as I can’t cope with the real deal).  Record emotions that are food related that really stick out to me as troublesome.

For a first session we sure dug deep.  I didn’t think I’d want to share much as she is a complete stranger to me but her appearance and manner soon made me feel less scared and more open to talking.

Already she has worked with me and given me insight on why my mother may be the way she is/was around food and me.  It is an insight I had simply never thought of before and it filled me with all sorts of emotions.  Because my mother has been through sexual abuse L proposed that perhaps the reason she has been so encouraging of me losing weight and not gaining is because somewhere deep down my mother has that typical belief that low weight = less desirable to men.  My mother sees me as an extension of herself, this I have already known for a while so it would make sense that her “safety net” of being thin, with no curves, just straight up and down has been something shes encouraged in me too.

To be honest I was initially uneasy about this interpretation because it doesn’t sound like my mother to be in any way shape or form protective of me.  On the surface, trying to keep me thin so I don’t get abused sounds like protection (and she failed massively).  Only I know that if I am just an extension of herself, really shes trying to keep HERSELF thin as protection of HER. Me, as a person, separate from her doesn’t come into it.  Same as it doesn’t on a day to day basis anyway.  The fact she never asks me about me, my life, my work, my courses lets me know that I am not recognised as someone with their own life.  Even if this interpretation is true, she isn’t trying to protect me, she’s trying to protect herself.

I managed to cough up the BMI figure of what I weigh now.  It was hard, and if you’d asked me before, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to share such stuff.  But I did.  We’d already had the discussion about my weight before I left the parents home and I will admit her reaction was comforting and very validating.  “When my BMI was 13 I was still getting told by my mother that my weight is fine and I’ll just get fat if I put anymore on”.  I didn’t see her initial reaction non-verbally as I was looking down but the loud “WHAT” told me all I needed to know.

So yes, she knows my weight now, and she also knows that, as always, it isn’t low enough for me.  Though it was easy to prove to her that I am ready to fight the anorexia and I am ready to work on this.  Just talking about my dogs, my work, my course I think she could SEE what it all means to me.  How I want to progress.  I want to keep working.  I want to live.

She questioned whether I’d say that my primary relationship at the moment is with the anorexia.  Not my partner.  Not my dogs.  Not Cat.  Not anyone.  To some extent I had to agree but in others, no I don’t think so.  For example, I don’t think my r’ship with the anorexia has overtaken my r’ship with Cat.  There have been times where I haven’t wanted to see her because of fear of how fat I look… but I still went.  We have still been doing the Monday lunches and I am still able to eat in front of her, yes not comfortably but Cat comes before the anorexia.  She has been there through this entire recent relapse and she is a lot nicer to live with in my head than the bleating cursing anorexia.

All in all I’m relieved.  I’m relieved that she doesn’t think that just because I’m not emaciated I don’t require help.  I’m relieved that she is nowhere near as scary as my head built her up to be.  I’m relieved that she can laugh and smile and believe what I say.  I’m relieved that she can perhaps be the clever insightful person I need to work with to shift my hang ups about food, and my body, and my resultant worth.

Mothers day UK

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I dont need to tell you how mothers day is thrown upon us yearly. How the sickly sweet cards are enough to make anyone with a less than perfect relationship with their mum feel sick to their stomach with anger, loss, envy…

Every year on mother’s day I have ensured to stay true to myself. The two years I was estranged from the bio mother was easy…no contact. But now cards and presents are, to some extent, expected again and I have to hold onto my true self.

I have to trawl through all those sickly cards and watch as others pick them up with pride and love. I have to leave my warmth that some people DO have that kind of relationship with their mum at just that, warmth. Bitterness and jealousy isn’t something I want to hold onto. I have my bio mother in my life in some capacity and thats great. For everything else there’s friends and non-blood family.

So everything I do I want to reflect that. No soppy cards will pass through my hands, and they haven’t done for years. We would both know its fake, forced and not genuine and that isn’t who I am as a person.

There has been a massive shift of acceptance about my bio family recently. They are who they are. I may not like certain members. I may not want to spend time with certain members. I may only be able to have superficial relationships with others but that’s not my fault. Their life choices, their attitudes and personalities are very different from mine and always will be. I can’t change the fact Paris is the capital of France and I cant change the facts of who they are.

Perhaps, deep down somewhere, I wouldn’t want to. Better the devil you know?

<3

minionI saw this and couldn’t resist stealing it to put on my blog.  It is especially applicable at the moment as an unhealthy friendship comes to an end, but only in my mind, as I am truly genuinely scared of said person so cannot cut ties and make it final.

I hate that I can so easily become scared of people.  I hate that I can so easily be walked over, used and used until I have nothing left.  I have so much opportunity at the moment to make friends.  Friends with like-minded interests.  But I am scared to.  I’ve managed one new friend, and that is enough for me at the moment.  Still, one is better than nothing.

Today has been wonderful.  Cat came over to ours and we went somewhere she has been wanting to go for four years.  It felt nice to be there as she experiences something for the first time, and be the reason she is experiencing it after so long of wanting to.  We didn’t really talk much therapy.  After last night which involved body memories and self harm I just needed to soak up the love, care and fun.  I know that realistically she is perhaps part of the reason that I don’t feel the need to branch out and make many friends.  I have all the support and fun and shared experiences I need with her.  I don’t think its a bad thing though at the moment.  It’s like growing up as a child; you do things with your family first before doing things independently with friends.  One naturally leads onto the other and I suspect that might be the case here.

Whatever the deal anyway I’m going with it.  Because I love her and she loves me <3

Dear diary

Cat and I had good plans for our therapy time today- we were going to go to a couple of health shops so I could buy some good foods. Unfortunately, PTSD had other plans for today when driving there it slammed a flashback into me that left my young inner parts screaming and me a nervous wreck.

It was a flashback I have never had before. It wasn’t full of violence or weapons or even abuse really….but it was full of terror, anticipation of abuse and truth that I haven’t yet accepted.

By the time I had got to Cats office I had been able to soothe the younger parts that the flashback isn’t real, we aren’t going there, to be with him. The emotions had seeped through enough to me though to feel how real it is, it became undeniable. Which was all kinds of scary in itself.

Once I’d summoned up the strength to tell the flashback to Cat it stirred further activity inside where the part involved, our youngest, began switching into the body, seconds at a time, leaving a little portion of emotion/visual at a time. By the time I’d managed to come back from that and tell Cat what the gibby was going on I had a detail that I’d never known before. A detail that makes me sick. A detail that adds more weight to the previous details.

The rest of the session was spent curled up beside Cat with my eyes closed as she stroked me. There was a lot of silence, the only sound being her stomach growling. Though I was able to share one thing: “I am feeling an emotion, five letters, beginning with S”. An emotion I’m still due to unravel and dismember from myself so it can stop seeping into other areas of my life too.

We have Cat coming to us on Monday for one of our meet up days. No idea what we will get up to yet. The last time we tried to do this plans got well and truly smashed when someone who used to be in my life decided to play a very cruel game on me. I hope nothing gets in the way of our time this time. Fingers crossed.

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