My great aunt, who I met once or twice in my life, but who still sent me a birthday and christmas card every year passed away last week.
My Nana is really ill in hospital again - she was taken into hospital during the day Thursday with a chest infection and had to be transferred to ICU last night at god knows what hour. According to my Dad who's seen her she's looking perkier and better today so hopefully it was just an extinction burst style thing (check out my psych lingo there; erm, hopefully it was just a gotta get worse to get better thing) but I don't know. She gets chest infections every year, around this time, and every year she's in hospital seriously ill with them. Every year I wonder if it'll be the last time... she's not 70 yet. Her mind is very sharp and strong but her body isn't.
I'm failing my compulsory module again. Module selection for next year is on Wednesday and I'm really torn between going down the 'safe' route (modules with less exams, more oral presentations and topics I've done before that I know I can do) or going down the slightly more risky route of modules that are heavy on exams but topics I've never done before and I'm finding interesting to think about.
Cheerleading is no longer fun, it's now a massive chore. As no-one in my group gets on with my other side base, the atmosphere is always tense and I feel that I'm blamed a lot when things go wrong because I just cba to argue with anyone about it; or defend myself when I'm not in the wrong. Eurgh.
Everything with me is getting worse. My mood is improving because this time next week I'll be at home; but equally my heart is heavy because this time next week I can no longer get away with only eating 600 calories all day or exercising to a net calorie total of 500 calories. I can skip lunch and breakfast but dinner is always a massive meal which will no doubt be over 1000 calories every day - I'm just going to balloon :( I might try and make sure I do at least an hour of cardio every day when my parents are out. They won't know if I don't tell them. I'm meant to be training for a 5k in May anyway so it's justifiable right?
Shopping is a mammoth task again. An hour today. An hour to buy £12 worth of things. Freaking ridiculous. Every item I put in my basket has five minutes of standing at the shelf considering it, and then later on another five minutes standing at another shelf deciding whether it should stay or go. Stupid head.
I want to do something, something positive that isn't just centred around me. For a long time I've wanted to run a help site for youths suffering from mental health problems (cos you know, there aren't enough websites about that around... not) but I never know where to begin. Last year I made my unis cheerleading club website but I've lost the files and the programs to do it with when my hard drive wiped itself. I don't know if it's a worthwhile venture tbh. Can they really make that much of a difference? My boyfriend suggested blogging, but he doesn't know about this blog. And besides; all the popular blogs are either about food, fitness, science (which I am not clever enough for) or makeup/fashion. Nothing there that I can do adequately, let alone as an 'authority'.
In other news, for the first time in ages, I weighed in at 137lbs this morning. I should be happier about this.
Five years ago, I didn't care about my weight. I laughed, danced, cared for everyone yet ignored people who looked down on me for being a 'big' girl (even though my BMI was only 26.5, yes, that was 'big' in my school. It's so wrong), ate what I wanted when I wanted and didn't give a shit in general about anything other than ME. Yes, I self harmed and was unhappy in many ways but in many others I was beautiful and happy and loving. I would go to Tescos every lunch time in sixth form and buy glorious things - cookies, sandwiches full of mayonnaise and cheese, full fat drinks, sugar and crisps and whatever the hell I wanted.
Four years ago I went to uni. I saw that people all over the country were as judgmental as the girls I grew up with and something changed in me; it was me who had the problem, not them. I was in the wrong. I began to change myself. I still danced and ate what I wanted but try as I might I couldn't ignore people who looked down on me for my less than perfect body any more. I made changes and for the first time in my life, I felt that I was unworthy. I felt the urge to hurt myself more as a punishment. I felt the pull of death and wanted to go to it for the first time in my life. My shopping changed from 100% what I wanted to 75% what I wanted and 25% what I felt I needed, like diet drinks and fruit.
Three years ago I saw a change on the scale. I hated myself now. I missed the carefree girl who laughed and danced and cared for everyone. I no longer ignored people who looked down on me. Suddenly, just eating less wasn't enough. I had to exercise more, earn more money, go out more, get more drunk. Be a grown up, away from the childish world of Prada bags and thigh gaps. Away from the girls who called me names and made me feel small for being who I was. I stopped buying the crisps and the sugary sweets. I began feeling guilty when I bought the sandwiches with cheese and mayo and crap in.
Two years ago I fell too deep. I cared no longer about anyone, I rarely laughed, I danced with no song in my heart, I wanted to be thinner and yet it never happened because I wasn't, in my eyes, dedicated enough. I wanted to die and tried to kill myself. I wanted to be away from everything. Just being an adult wasn't enough. It sucked. People are still mean to you whether you're 12 or 20. People start to die as you get older. People start to hurt you intentionally. I didn't buy anything. I ate what I had to to stop my parents worrying as I lived at home again, but it was the bare minimum. I learnt the tricks of making it look like I'd eaten when I hadn't.
One year ago I covered up the wounds of the past with hope for the future. It didn't work. It never works. Moving out to uni again I regained control of my shopping and filled my fridge with glorious things, fattening things, beautiful things I hadn't had the desire to eat in years. Yet without fail every week they got thrown in the bin as I tried to stop myself from gorging on them. I wasted so much money on food that I didn't eat...
Now I stock my fridge with vegetables and turkey ham. I drink a 1.5l bottle of water + a day. I feel guilty if I eat over 1100 calories whether I've exercised or not. I occasionally buy cookies and crisps but every bite I take of them is torture and I know that soon they'll go completely. My cupboard is full of things that don't go off like pasta and rice but things I don't allow myself to have. My room is filled with fruit. For the first time this morning, I made up my bowl of porridge and I only ate half of it. Because I felt too bad for eating so many carbs that I couldn't handle it any more. It was easier to put it down. I've stopped cutting myself. But is this any better?
I have not been that happy carefree girl for five years now and it kills me. I want her back. I don't want to count calories, or feel guilty for eating too much, or go running for 45 minutes just so I can have a handful of skittles. I don't want to cry when I think of my life or feel the emotions that people normally feel. I don't want to have to struggle all the time. Makes it seem pointless. :(