Hello everyone, been a while(again).
I just thought instead of trying to think of what to write as a blog post; that I would share a diary entry. That's what a blog is anyway really isn't it?
I'm not going to edit it, just writing it word for word as it is in my diary. So if you only like stories about fluffy bunnies and butterflies then I suggest you go and watch a Disney Film.
5th March 2015- Location- A&E
All I see is fat in the mirror.
If I don't get help, I will kill off every organ, I've repeatedly asked for help.
I overdosed because I wanted to die.
I'm scared of death, but the feeling of guilt, shame, and disgust override any fear.
The constant voice telling you, you're not worthy of happiness.
I'm not skinny enough to be seen.
I'm not anorexic, I am diabulimic............. * How ironic as I'm typing this word on my blog, it comes up as a typo, the only word it an suggest, Diabolic, says it all*
It's just as debilitating, just as dangerous, it's a quicker way to end up in a coma.
And I don't even care anymore, skinny, or nothing.
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31st March- 26 days later.
It's been 26 days since I overdosed. I have put on weight, and each day, is getting hard to fight.
To fight, against the urge, to purge, in any way possible.
My HBA1C is down, that's great, my weight is up, I feel not so great. Can I win?
When my weight is down, my diabetes control is through the roof. A sure way to end up with all sorts of complications, blindness, neuropathy.
A day before my 19th birthday, I found out I already have background retinopathy. I haven't even been diabetic for 5 years. Complications are not in the faraway future. They are real, and creep up sooner than you think.
I compare my eyesight to my mindset at the moment.
I'm in a room, trying to open the door to recovery, but my vision is so blurred, it's hard to make out where the door actually is, it's always further than you think.
But, as you get closer to something,physically, mentally, you become accustomed to it.
It somewhat becomes clear, in focus.
I used to think, I hate myself because I became diabetic, and fat, and dumb.
I live off a 'what if' mentality. ''What if I wasn't diabetic'' ''Would I still be competitively swimming, practicing martial arts, socialising with friends?''
At 14, I was thrust with Diabetes, a subconscious focus on restriction, perfectionism and a need for control to be praised by my parents. Now I can look back and recognise, is there any wonder I developed an eating disorder?
I still feel suicidal, a lot, I feel like my family suffer from the stress I burden them with. The irrational thoughts override the rational thoughts of my mind.
But I want to be a role model, a voice. I want to be someone who can reach out to others, in my situation or a similar one.
To reassure them, that life is actually like a Lift; there's no easy way out. Sometimes, you have to go to the bottom floor, to get to the top. With stops along the way, once twice, up and down. But these little blips, smooth out and eventually you DO reach your peak at your final destination.
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The reason I felt the need to post these entries, is to highlight the difference in mood, and how writing it down, at the time may seem irrelevant, but looking back, can make you realise how far you have come, and that even baby steps can sometimes be a huge achievement.
I will continue to fight, and would like to thank anyone and everyone who has been there, physically and emotionally and it hasn't all been in vain.
Alice x
