BFW - The Value of Hurt

This is the first post from the Blogging for Wellbeing 'Empowerment, Strength and Overcoming' theme. I love the direction this is going in and think it could lead to some really interesting posts from the group :)

Through everything I've been through - and mostly, that has meant everything I have put myself through - I have often thought that I would not wish that hell on another person. Not even someone I hated with a passion (I can't imagine that, but even if I did). I can't deny that it really was hell  and I wouldn't go through the worst of those days willingly again if you paid me, but neither would I erase it all. That would be the easy option - I am struggling to erase the stains left behind from those many, many bad days - but I would never sacrifice what I have gained from them.

The days I was suicidal have made me appreciate with joy the days I wake up with excitement (for anything). The days I wouldn't allow myself to eat and sat in self-hatred, anguish and anxiety have meant that I don't take for granted a single bite of my favourite foods, or the energy running through me allowing to do what I want and what I need, or the way my body seems to click now. I am grateful every day for being able to read, to climb stairs easily... I have a long way to go but it is wonderful to appreciate how far I have come.

I wonder now what I would have become had everything been different. I think that really a great deal would have been the same. I think some essential things would have been the same (see image - "you always were") but I would never want to sacrifice the gratitude I now have.

Happy New Year

"When the sun sets on one phase of life, find peace in knowing that new beginnings bring light to the horizon.
Recognise an ending is the moment preceding a new beginning, and fear of change transforms into anticipation."

2013 isn't going brilliantly so far; I slept all day today and surfaced in the evening to eat. I did, however, get dressed (in pyjamas) and get a few things done. Today, all in all, not a success, but not a failure either.

I am glad I don't put too much stock into new beginnings. I know it puts too much pressure on me. In the past a new year (/month, /day) has meant a "new me" - all my plans and hopes converted into unobtainable goals to achieve, and I would subsequently fail and be unable to pick myself up off the floor because of the beating I was giving myself for being a 'failure'. I can't have such high expectations of myself, and shouldn't, because, for me, they aren't helpful or productive. Or healthy. Or compassionate. It's a tricky balance to maintain, getting things done and staying (relatively) sane.

What do I want from this year? A healthier self, a more satisfying and manageable life, but I am so scared of change and the work it takes. Therapy has been so difficult recently and I feel like I'm scratching at the wall; hurting, and getting nowhere. Beating myself up once again for not achieving what I think I ought to as quickly as I should. Being frightened that in fact I am unable of doing anything to facilitate the change I want and need. I suppose my fear of change is mirrored by a fear of not-changing. I think the latter is definitely the scarier of the two.

But here I am. If nothing else I have 364 days ahead of me this year, with 24 hours in each. All I ask and all I can hope for is that I get somewhere. Change is slow; real change that is, and I do think if I keep going I can't help but achieve something. I am trying to be excited about the limitless possibilities facing me. There are a lot of exciting, beautiful, wonderful things out there. 

The New Year.

I've long since stopped writing lists of resolutions (stop biting your nails, lose some weight, read more, do more, be more...) because I am trying to stop measuring myself up against ideals I can't achieve. I am slowly (very slowly) coming to terms with the fact that yes, I am in fact human, and yes, that means I'm fallible.

However much I may wish I were superwoman, the sad truth is that I can't reach every goal and tick off every point on my to do list whilst keeping a hold on my health and my sanity (and let's face it, I won't get so far with those to-do's if I've lost it - from experience). I am guilty of aiming to high and then dropping it all in despair and I realise that gets me nowhere.

There are so many things I want to achieve though and although I am being careful, to a point, with how gentle I am with myself I do know that I am by nature a procrastinator. So how do I go about achieving what is possible and healthy? How do I know what to aim for and how much to push myself? I don't think I can come to a conclusion on this (if anyone has any answers, I would be glad to hear them..!) and I suppose it is trial and error.

I used to a party on New Year's Eve every year as a child and I remember vividly this ritual we would go through every year: each of us would write out something we wanted to welcome into our lives in the coming year and something we wanted to say goodbye to. The welcomed wish was sent off in a balloon; what we wished to lose was burned in a bonfire. I am trying to simplify how I'm feeling to these two points but I can't - honestly, for me, tomorrow evening at midnight nothing special will happen. I won't change. My motivations, desires, hopes; none of that will change. A minute will pass. A new day will begin.

I will use this time though to look back and to look forward. What am I bringing with me and what will I leave behind? Where do I want to be; what do I want to be saying, this time next year?

This year I have gained back weight (a lot of it), a belief that I can get out of that kind of madness (I am by no means where I want to be with that, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel). I have lost inches and inches of hair. I have gained new friends, new loves, new interests, new obsessions. I am changed and I am the same. My plans have changed over and over and will change again.

I am looking forward into this new year with hope and with the belief that if sure of nothing else I can be sure of the fact that things will keep on changing. I will sit and think, keep going, and wait for Spring.

"Let everything happen to you.
Beauty and terror.
Just keep going.
No feeling is final."
-Rainer Maria Rilke-

What does Winter/December mean to you?

BFW Advent Calendar - December 3rd

Josephine Broekhuizen

I am looking forward to this Christmas. That may not sound like much, but it is significant to me.

For a long time, Winter has been synonymous for me with grey days, depression, loneliness, anxiety... December meant the anxiety of meals with the family, social occasions I couldn't handle, panic over the sheer volume of food in the house when the infamous 'Christmas shop' arrived... It depressed me that these things, designed to be a pleasure, a celebration, were such a stressful experience for me.

I am looking forward to this Christmas because this is the most stable I have been at this time of year for a long, long time.

I plan on keeping down my Christmas dinner. I am opening my advent calendar (on the odd days, I am sharing!) with the innocent excitement I have been without for too long. I have been at a stable weight for seven months now, in the healthy range, and I no longer have to use baggy clothes to cover up. I am living on my own, and I have the power to decide when to see my family and my friends. I can decide - without guilt - when I feel safe enough to see my parents. My relationship with them is all the better for it.

I am looking forward to waking up with my mum on Christmas day. I am looking forward to giving my friends and family their gifts, because giving gifts is something that gives me a huge amount of joy. I am so thankful, now, for the love of the people around me. I have so many beautiful people in my life. Winter is coming to mean for me a time for rest. Not to hibernate, as I have edged towards, but to refresh myself with the pleasure of my own space, balanced with the company of those I love.

The cold is teaching me to nurture myself. To wear what is warm, to eat well, to give myself a hot water bottle. Things that would have seemed too difficult before - so many of us know how difficult it is to give a gift to ourselves. We are taught that Christmas means being selfless, but so often at the expense of our selves. To come to enjoy giving my time, my money and my energy to others at this time of year whilst knowing I am allowed to give myself the same energy is a wonderful gift.

This reflection is becoming a ramble. I realise I don't know what Winter means to me, not really, because so much has changed and is still constantly changing  in my life. This time of year is such a wonderful time to be around children, to be aware of that innocence and pure excitement that only they have. I am excited, though. I am excited to explore this time of year for myself, for what feels like the first time.

river papercut by fricktoria on Flickr.

I'm hoping to clear my head, here. Sat in bed with music in the background, my duvet round me, watching the streetlights flicker on one by one outside, I'm trying to remind myself what I'm holding on for, and why. To remind myself that it will happen.

I have always been uncomfortable with the word 'fighter' attached to me. When people tell me I'm fighting, I've been quick to correct them that I'm not, I'm not trying, I'm not being brave, taking no plunges. In the last couple of weeks, though, I've begun to see myself that way. Continually picking myself off the floor and trying to be kind, to be compassionate to myself and just fucking keeping going is the hardest fight I've ever come against. I am beginning to be proud of myself and to see myself as strong, when for me that has only ever been a word to describe other people.

I can get through this. I can get through this. It will get better; it will get better, if you keep going.
Constant mantras to myself.

I find it so hard to believe I'll ever be over Kate, and the thought is really terrifying. She is the closest friend I've had and honestly the only person I believe knows me completely. She is such an important part of my life, and I believe that is part of the problem. When we were together she was constantly acting as rescuer, me as victim; as a result I always needed her too badly. The fact I'm struggling with it so much now says more about that than about how much the relationship actually meant to each of us.

I know I can't rush this healing period and I have to allow myself to grieve but I resent it, I'm humiliated by my own weakness/vulnerability and I'm frustrated I can't make it happen quicker. I know now that I have it in me to heal myself but I'm impatient for it and frustrated with myself, and that is where the self-hatred slips in and the productive compassionate state gets drowned out. I am jealous and angry and I hate myself for that; I am sad and lonely and I hate myself for that, too.

What if it never happens? How do I go about finding someone who knows me and cares about me as much? How do I deal with this?

I have said a thousand times, I would give anything, anything, to be over this, and be able to be her friend. And maybe that desperation is telling of just how not ready I am to do that.

I wish I was ready to go to her exhibition today, to meet her friends and her potential-possible-kind-of-new-girlfriend and be happy for her. But I'm stuck alone at home. I am so profoundly lonely and I don't know how to fix that, except just to keep going, and keep trying, and keep reaching out to the love I still have in my life.

saying again

if you do not teach me I shall not learn

saying again there is a last

even of last times

last times of begging

last times of loving

of knowing not knowing pretending

a last even of last times of saying

if you do not love me I shall not be loved

if I do not love you I shall not love

("Cascando" - Samuel Beckett)

could be triggering (ED, SH, OD)

I've been avoiding blogging mainly because I don't have the energy, and also because I don't want to moan. I like having a positive spin at the end of my posts, but to be honest I'm finding it hard to see the silver lining at the minute. My last post is a fairly good example.

I feel completely dropped by the NHS. I have doctors appointments every two weeks, which is good, and my GP is great and has done all she can for me, but that seems to be very little. My mum has offered to pay for half for sessions with this therapist who has a few very cut rate places for people in need, so we can pay about a quarter of the price of a normal session between us (as in, I'm paying an eighth). I feel lucky to be offered this but incredibly, incredibly guilty. So guilty I don't know if I can go through with it. If I didn't feel so terrible and hopeless about the situation with the NHS counselling (I might be offered counselling with ED services in September) I wouldn't even be considering this. It doesn't seem fair on people who have even less money than me, or who haven't been able to find such a generous offer. I feel for everyone on the waiting list, especially because I truly believe everyone must be iller than me.

I am not beginning to believe that I might just be given up on. The NHS provides 25 (?) sessions max, and after that you rejoin the waiting list (which for me has been a year and a half). This situation is awful and it is terrifying, because for the first time I've felt like asking for help, as hard as it is, might not get me anywhere after all. I do want to get better. I'm fighting as hard as I can, but I can't do it alone; I've been trying for 7 years now and it's only getting harder.

I am really slipping. My ED symptoms are awful. My depression is so bad I haven't had a bath in over a month. That's disgusting, but I'm putting it out there to explain, because I don't have the words. I haven't brushed my hair in over a week. Getting up the energy to make a drink takes hours. My clothes get changed when necessary - generally once or twice a week, and I usually don't bother changing into pyjamas. I am trying to get out of the house every now and again, and I am achieving that actually. I've been to all of my useless appointments, been out to see a friend, been to Kate's a few times and to the bank, and I even went out one night without it being too much of a disaster - although I did end up self-harming, overdosing, drinking too much - compared to when I went out in Liverpool and was a total mess. I am actually going to work, and I can get through the day, although I'm making a lot of mistakes.

I am shakily on my feet and I am doing what I can. However, I am definitely existing, rather than living. I barely think my own thoughts. I can't concentrate. I have no desire to do anything. Feelings, especially positive ones, are few and far between. I feel like my brain is melting, much of the time.

I have my little 'recovery folder' with my list of reasons to stay ill, and reasons to get better. The fact I've made that list I think is a positive. I'm trying to hold onto these things, these moments where I feel something like motivation.

I can't do this, I can't do this any more. I've had enough. I can't cope and I'm on my own.