Why, oh why has Ophelia been posting so much?
I drifted so far away recently, posting once a week, once a fortnight....
I used to be a good blogger - good to read, good at replying - an attentive blogger, a caring blogger.
This is the most messed up my life has ever been - Because I'm going to fail all seven exams in three weeks - And not even care.
I'm just an eating disorder.
I don't care.
I had my first session with my new psychologist yesterday.
(Gotta love private healthcare. The speed at which you get seen is scary!- it leaves me no time to think! Am still on the NHS waiting list just because what's the point taking myself off it after all this time!... but this is not a post highlighting the jokes of the system).
So, yes, a private psychologist. Thank you Bupa.
Her name... lets call her 'Miranda'.
Miranda is pretty glamorous for a psychologist - well compared to all the ones I've met before anyway. She was dessed nicely, and wore a lot of makeup - specifially eyeliner - a lot of eyeliner.
Anyway.
It was pretty standard. We just went over everything, my past, where it all started etc,
I cried twice. Once when I talked about my Dad and once when I talked about Alex.
It was exactly the same in my inital assessment session with the lead psychological assessor the week before.
I can't talk about my Dad without crying - or rather I can't talk about his death, my childhood, my happy memories of him. Miranda made me tell her exactly what happened on the day he died. She made me describe exactly where he was, exactly what I saw, exactly what I did next.
The next time I want to self harm and feel pain, I won't get out a knife; I will force myslelf to re-live those moments. I couldn't speak for choking on my tears.
And then Alex. Why do I cry when I talk about Alex?
I've been trying to work it out...
..it's just something about those words:
boyfriend
he knows
he loves me
he wants to support me
Or perhaps therapy is the wrong place for him to be present in my thoughts. He has nothing to do with my eating disorder; he has nothing to do with pain; he has no place there; I don't want him there...
I dont know...
Why do I cry when I talk about Alex?
Of late I have been a bulimic monster. I mean a huge, wobbling, fleshy, chocolate biscuit, bed-bound, bulimic monster.
I read back on some of my old posts - the pro-Ana style I suppose it was. I was so committed. There was none of this trash that I write now. Every post was committed to beauty; every post was committed to getting stronger and getting thinner. I was angry, I pushed myself, I punished myself, I wanted it. Spending all this time on blogger has made me remember again - remember how much I used to love this community - I mean, really LOVE it, and how much strength I used to get here and how much strength I used to be able to give back.
To the bulimic monster in me: If you are sick of being sick, you will stop being sick.
Bulimia is sickness and weakness.
Finding my way back to fasting and restricting is strength.
Thank you Eva for holding my hand and walking back with me.
And what if summer... for this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnvgq8STMGM&annotation_id=annotation_430220&feature=iv
Ophelia..."she's a stupid byatch"
I drifted so far away recently, posting once a week, once a fortnight....
Well, truth be told, Alex has locked me out of my facebook account in an attempt to get me to concentrate on revision.
Oh yes - exams!
Exams... seven to be precise - three hours each - the day after each other.
excellent...
So instead of sitting at my laptop pressing the 'refresh' button on my facebook homepage and seeing what uninteresting things my 480 'friends' have been doing, I have been sitting on blogger, reading old blogs, reading new blogs, commenting here and there, and of course, posting my usual rubbish!
I used to be a good blogger - good to read, good at replying - an attentive blogger, a caring blogger.
I think it's the slide from Ana to Mia. Ana makes for a good blogger, and Mia makes for a very bad one. Lets face it, what is inspirational about a wobbly white girl stuffing her face and spewing?
This is the most messed up my life has ever been - Because I'm going to fail all seven exams in three weeks - And not even care.
I'm just an eating disorder.
I don't care.
(Gotta love private healthcare. The speed at which you get seen is scary!- it leaves me no time to think! Am still on the NHS waiting list just because what's the point taking myself off it after all this time!... but this is not a post highlighting the jokes of the system).
So, yes, a private psychologist. Thank you Bupa.
Her name... lets call her 'Miranda'.
Miranda is pretty glamorous for a psychologist - well compared to all the ones I've met before anyway. She was dessed nicely, and wore a lot of makeup - specifially eyeliner - a lot of eyeliner.
Anyway.
It was pretty standard. We just went over everything, my past, where it all started etc,
I cried twice. Once when I talked about my Dad and once when I talked about Alex.
It was exactly the same in my inital assessment session with the lead psychological assessor the week before.
I can't talk about my Dad without crying - or rather I can't talk about his death, my childhood, my happy memories of him. Miranda made me tell her exactly what happened on the day he died. She made me describe exactly where he was, exactly what I saw, exactly what I did next.
The next time I want to self harm and feel pain, I won't get out a knife; I will force myslelf to re-live those moments. I couldn't speak for choking on my tears.
And then Alex. Why do I cry when I talk about Alex?
I've been trying to work it out...
..it's just something about those words:
boyfriend
he knows
he loves me
he wants to support me
Or perhaps therapy is the wrong place for him to be present in my thoughts. He has nothing to do with my eating disorder; he has nothing to do with pain; he has no place there; I don't want him there...
I dont know...
Why do I cry when I talk about Alex?
Of late I have been a bulimic monster. I mean a huge, wobbling, fleshy, chocolate biscuit, bed-bound, bulimic monster.
What's the fucking point. What's the fucking point of endless days restricting, the hunger headaches, the miles and miles of aching muscles, what's the fucking point if you're gonna let some fat bulimic bitch ruin it all.
I read back on some of my old posts - the pro-Ana style I suppose it was. I was so committed. There was none of this trash that I write now. Every post was committed to beauty; every post was committed to getting stronger and getting thinner. I was angry, I pushed myself, I punished myself, I wanted it. Spending all this time on blogger has made me remember again - remember how much I used to love this community - I mean, really LOVE it, and how much strength I used to get here and how much strength I used to be able to give back.
To the bulimic monster in me: If you are sick of being sick, you will stop being sick.
Bulimia is sickness and weakness.
Finding my way back to fasting and restricting is strength.
Thank you Eva for holding my hand and walking back with me.
And what if summer... for this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnvgq8STMGM&annotation_id=annotation_430220&feature=iv
Ophelia..."she's a stupid byatch"
I'm back.
Not stupid, mushy, boring Ophelia; worring about recovery.
I mean Ophelia.
Thin. Beautiful. Strong.
Ophelia, draped in flowers, drowned in beauty.
...rising again
Welcome back lady :)
ReplyDeletehope you aren't giving up entirely on therapy, it could still help you, even while you're losing
Ophelia; I missed you so much
ReplyDeleteYou were one of the first blogs I began to follow, and I was honoured when you followed me also. You have such a fascinating life and beautiful words, you have probably heard this before but I wanted to say it again. You are rising again? Take me with you...please?
Welcome back...much love, Sun-lit~ xx
I've been drifting away as well, but it's always a good feeling to be back here.
ReplyDeleteAs for crying when you talked about Alex, i can totally relate. I've also found a man who loves and wants to support and help me, and it's such an incredible thing that i believe some tears are quite necessary. If you've read my blog recently, you'll notice that my man and my eating disorder don't go together very well at all, so i can sympathyze with those thoughts very well.
Stay strong, darling. I know you can reach your goals.
You've been nominated for the Beautiful Blogger Award on my latest post. :) Have a wonderful day.
ReplyDeletewow, your determination and will power just amazes me every time i read any of ur posts... /xo
ReplyDelete