Dear Big Me

My therapist has asked me to write a letter from ‘small me’ to me as I am now, a bigger version.  I feel like this is going to be a lot harder to do seeing as ‘small me’ is just a concept, and I think emotionally it’ll be more painful to write. Here is my effort, anyway.
Dear Big Me,

I feel scared and really alone and I don’t know why. I don’t understand my feelings, they feel too big for me. I don’t understand what is going on, no one has explained anything to me. Mummy is always in bed and I always want her to do things with me, like take me swimming like the other children do with their mums, but she always promises and never does it. She always breaks promises and it makes me so upset. I feel like she doesn’t want to play with me. I always want to hug her and climb on her but I get told off when I try because she says it hurts her. It’s horrible when Mummy and Daddy are cross with me, it makes me cry and makes me feel like it’s all my fault. I try to be a good girl so that Mummy will get better, but it isn’t working. I try really hard at school and I try to show Mummy how good I am and try to get her attention, but it doesn’t work. Mummy’s friend across the road looks after me a lot as Daddy is at work. I really like it over there as I play with my friends and have lots of fun. When I’m at my house I play imaginary games with my toys. Daddy is at work every day, and if we go to pick him up we can’t shut the door properly because it hurts Mummy and I’m too small to do it. She can’t walk very far at all which makes me sad because I want to go to the park. She was in hospital for months and it was miles away so we couldn’t go to visit her much. It makes me hate Daddy because all I want is my Mummy, I don’t want him. I don’t understand why Mummy is ill but I think it’s all my fault. Sometimes I get angry about it because I don’t understand, but then I get told off so I’m trying not to show it in case I make her worse. She can’t bend down or pick me up and it makes me really upset because all I want is to hug her and for her to tell me that she’s ok. I think there must be something wrong with me, I don’t know what else it could be, it must be my fault. Maybe she doesn’t love me, I don’t think she does. She can’t even look at me sometimes, and I feel like I have to be really careful around her and try to work out how she’s feeling, because she doesn’t tell me. I always try to make her love me but it doesn’t work. How can she love me?

To Big Me – can you give me a hug and promise me that it’s not my fault, ’cause I’m really scared that it is. I feel worried all the time, I get really worried about little things every day. Do you promise that she loves me? I really don’t think she does and I think it’s my fault that she’s poorly. I really really want her to love me. I feel really really scared and really alone and I don’t know what to do. I just want to cry lots and lots. Please can you make sure Mummy loves me. I want her to love me.

From Little Me

Dear Little Me

Dear Little Me,

You are going to be ok. Admittedly, I don’t really know how, but you’ve got to be, because what other way is there? Before this happens though, you will go through a lot of shit. And I mean, a lot. But please please listen to me when I say that NONE OF IT is your fault, none of it at all. I know it’s really hard to believe that and there are going to be many many times in your life when you think that what is happening to you is your fault, but I promise you it’s not. You are so loved, Mum just can’t show it. But she really really loves you, more than you could imagine. She should’ve been there for you and she should’ve shown you how loved you were, but she wasn’t and she didn’t and again, that’s just so far from being your fault. It’s her fault, but it wasn’t on purpose. She thought she was doing the right thing, but she was doing the complete opposite. You didn’t understand what was happening and you weren’t able to show how you felt, and that’s a really horrible thing for a little girl to go through, and I’m so sorry that you went through such a horrible experience. You deserve so much love, you are lovely and kind and funny and you didn’t get what you needed from your Mum so that you could form and develop a strong foundation. This is going to cause you a lot of pain and hurt and confusion over the years, but you know what, despite all of that, you turn out to be a strong, compassionate woman with a unique emotional intelligence, Yes, you might be more vulnerable than a lot of people, but that’s ok.

Life is going to throw a lot of shit at you, it’s going to feel overwhelming and incessant and you’re going to struggle to keep your head above water a lot of the time, but the point is, you do keep your head above water. You’ve got a dream career, you live in a lovely house, and you have friends that know you inside out and back to front and love you to bits.

Your Mum loves you. Now that she understands what you went through as a child, she tells you she loves you and expresses it all the time. And it’ll be hard because you’ll feel like the damage is too ingrained for this to make a difference – it’s too little too late. So all you can do is try your best to let it sink in, let it sink to your very core. And surely each time you try, the message that you are loved will sink in. It’s going to take a long time, I won’t lie, but keep telling yourself that your Mummy loves you. And other people really love you.

You are going to go through a couple of horrible break ups, you are going to go through a horrendous ordeal that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, you might potentially have to go through a court case, and you are unfortunately going to have to live with Bipolar Disorder for the rest of your life. You’re also going to have a fucking horrible time fighting Binge Eating Disorder, and quite an unusual start to adult life. I know that doesn’t paint a great picture for you. However, all of these experiences are only going to add to the rich tapestry of your character. You could’ve become bitter and hardened and cold because of these experiences, but instead you have become vulnerable (which will be good and bad), empathetic, humane and warm. You will have a slight guard up sometimes with men, but not one that needs a bulldozer to get through. You are fun-loving and sociable, but you’ll also like to have down time by yourself, which is ok. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen with the Binge Eating Disorder, as I’m still in the midst of it right now, but do me a favour and try to be compassionate to yourself about it. You don’t deserve to be punished because, like I’ve said, none of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for an eating disorder, it formed because you were struggling to keep up with all the shit that was being thrown at you. So it’s ok that it’s around, it’s actually been trying to help, and to some extent it has. So rather than be disappointed and frustrated and ashamed when you binge, try and talk compassionately to it. Say ‘Look, I really do appreciate you coming to my rescue to help me get through a shitty time, or just life in general, but I’m going to try to do it for myself just this one time. But it’s good to know you’re there and I’ll let you know if I need anything.’ Obviously it’s not that easy – it’s an addiction after all – but just try. It can’t hurt, and you deserve nothing but love and kindness. By being angry at the binging, you’re actually just being angry with yourself. You don’t need that.

You are a good person and your Mummy loves you. I’m just deeply sorry that she couldn’t show it to you. But I absolutely promise you it’s there. She loves you so much. I know you’ve felt incredibly alone, which you never should’ve had to feel, but you’re not alone now, because I love you and I care about you and I’ve got you in my mind and in my heart. I’m going to look after you. When you feel alone, you can tell me, and I’ll give you a really warm hug and I’ll reassure you that everything is going to be ok in the end, you strong thing.

Lots of love and warm cuddly hugs,

Bigger Me

Hate

I don’t know why I hate myself but I also don’t know how not to.

Struggling

I’m really struggling with the pain of what happened three weeks ago. It is so insufferably intense and I’m finding it almost impossible to just go with it without self-medicating i.e. binging. I’ve had binge eating disorder for the last four years but it was relatively under control (once a week-ish and no sugar for 9 months), until the r word happened. Now, sugar binges are back on the cards, as well as generally shit fucking food. Which has ramped the addiction up to a ridiculous level. I just don’t know how else to cope with the pain, and no other coping mechanism has ever come close. Maybe it’s wrong to expect something to come as close as binging. I am really fucking struggling and I feel so so lost. I’m scared that I’m falling apart. Binging is both a torture and a life line. Fuck the life line.

The R Word

Three weeks ago, something awful happened.  I wrote this last night when I couldn’t sleep.

That night.
You’re told that it wasn’t your fault
You tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault
Yet there’s something eating away at your brain which says otherwise
If only you’d left sooner
If only you’d said no earlier
If only you’d seen the signs
That night.
Someone stronger would have said no
Someone stronger would have gone home
Someone stronger would have felt that they had a choice
So does that mean I’m not strong?
Does that make me weak?
Am I another faceless ‘victim’ in the news
Someone that I could never imagine relating to?
The detective said ‘we don’t often deal with people like yourself’
Does it then follow that it takes a ‘sort of person’ for this to happen to?
Am I an exception to some unknown rule?
What is it about me that has given me a place in this group that I never wanted to join?There must be some quality, some characteristic of mine, that made me vulnerable
That night.

He wasn’t what you’d expect
He didn’t jump out at me in a dark alley
He wasn’t big, or scary, or intimidating.
He was vulnerable, unhappy, fragile.
And I found this disconcerting, debilitating, off-putting.
That night
He told me how ambitious he was
He kept telling me
Over and over, as he slugged a bottle of whiskey
I reassured him, soothed him, mothered him.
My mother once told me that I’m drawn to people who need looking after.
Maybe she’s right.
He needed looking after
That night.
I’ve always had to please men
I’ve needed them to like me
And this has come at a cost
I have sacrificed myself
My feelings
And that night, I sacrificed my body.
He tasted of smoke
His tongue on my neck made my stomach turn
I froze
The series of events had already played out
To him, this was consent
But it wasn’t
It was me giving in
Accepting

He’d been trying for weeks
‘No’ meant a challenge
I wanted him to leave me alone
But I didn’t want him to be upset with me
Or angry
I wanted him to like me
I needed him to like me
I needed him to be my friend
That night
I told him ‘no’
I told him to stop
I told him to get off me
I pushed him
I pushed him
He wouldn’t get off me
He told me to stop
He told me ‘no’
‘The fun has just begun.’
So I told him ‘harder’
Maybe physical pain would numb me
I needed something tangible to focus on
And maybe if he did it harder he would finish quicker
But he’d had too much whiskey
I begged him to stop
I was tired
I wanted to go home
I wanted to be in my own bed
Eventually
He stopped
And when he fell asleep, I put on my clothes
And left
The end.
Except it’s not the end
I hurt
I’m numb
I cry
I cry like I have never cried
How can you cry when you’re numb?
Surely that’s a paradox.

I eat.
I eat and I eat and I eat until my brain turns to fog and my stomach stretches like a taut balloon
I need to feel the fog
I focus on the pain of my swollen stomach
And for a few hours, life seems just about manageable.
It passes the time until night arrives and the day is over

And then the morning comes
And I think, ‘Fuck.’
It takes me three hours to move from my bed
Four to get in the shower
Six to leave the house.
‘At least you got in the shower’
I struggle to see that as an accomplishment.
‘You’re doing well’
How do you know?
I wish there was a chart, or a scale
‘You’re a survivor’ – what exactly does that mean?
Doesn’t surviving just mean living?
In that case, isn’t everyone a survivor?
Is that really something to congratulate?

I’m trying to be strong
But I don’t know how
Strength doesn’t seem within reach
I try to grab it but it evaporates in my hands
I can’t find ‘me’
Will I come back to myself?
Will I feel like me again?
Can I go back to the way I was
Or has this tainted me
Scarred me?
I want to feel anger
I want to feel hate
I want to prove him wrong
But I don’t feel any of these things
I feel like a victim
I try not to
But I can’t help it

I don’t even

Every single time I binge, I regret it not too long after. Maybe five minutes, maybe half an hour, but always regret. Over the nearly 4 years that it’s been going on for, I must have binged hundreds of times, and with the identical consequent emotions. Regret, shame, frustration, disappointment, sometimes hate, sometimes anger, often guilt. And I’m still left with the (slightly number) feelings that I wanted to appease with food in the first place. So WHY, WHY do I carry on doing it. For fuck’s sake, it’s ridiculous! I’m relatively intelligent, I understand why I do it and what’s behind it, I know that it doesn’t work long term, and I know that it makes every aspect of life more difficult and of lower quality. So WHY do I forget that every single time??!

Because, for that half an hour, maybe less or maybe more, I’m not feeling and I’m not thinking. It’s a hypnotic breather, a rest, and (at the time) it’s lovely and it’s my comforter. And that’s the crux of it. So how do I get to that part, how do I change that or replace that? How do you get past that?

It’s happened tonight and I feel so much worse. I don’t want to be swollen and bloated tomorrow. I don’t want my brain to be cloudy at work. And I want to go out for drinks with my mate on Friday night and feel comfortable in myself. I want my clothes to fit and not try to be hiding what’s underneath. But after tonight I feel that I’ve fucked that, and it makes me want to scream and shout like I never have before. No one deserves this, I know I don’t. The bastard thing is that it’s in my control. That deserves all the angry emojis in the world.

Nearly a year

It’s been nearly a year since my last post, and in the past couple of months I have had fleeting thoughts about starting to write again.  I’m not completely sure as to why I stopped in the first place – maybe things got a bit too painful to write about, or maybe it’s because I met a guy in February which took up a lot of time and room.  I can’t remember.  I broke up with said guy a couple of weeks ago which has left me pretty heartbroken – I think that’s why I’m returning tonight.  The blog may help or it may not, but there’s no harm in trying – I can’t feel any more wretched than I do right now.

Proud moment

For the past six days I have felt miserable and hopeless. The urges to binge have therefore been at full force, becoming an enticing prospect. I’ve thought, ‘I can’t possibly feel any worse right now, so why not?’

So today, when I arrived for therapy half an hour early and decided to use the the time to stretch my legs and wander past the Co-op (couldn’t resist), I found myself in the queue with sugar sugar and lots of sugar in my arms. 

It was a relatively long queue as there was only one cashier and she was taking her time. As it went on I started to feel more and more self-conscious about all of the crap I was carrying, and started to feel premature guilt about the inevitable binge. For the first time in my life I wished that there were some self-scan checkouts so I could get it over and done with quickly and discreetly.

Even though my agitation was growing, this tortoise of a cashier actually ended up being a blessing in disguise. Waiting in the queue gave me a chance to stop and process what I was about to do and what the consequences would be. Usually I would be unable to keep still both mentally and physically at the prospect of a sugar rush. Waiting for it would make me feel like my brain was being scratched from the inside by sharp fingernails. But this time, the wait made me realise that actually, this food wasn’t going to make me feel good, and the therapy session would be pointless if I was out of it. With that thought, I shoved the food on to the shelf next to me and quickly exited the shop, feeling a glimmer of strength.

I don’t know what I’m doing

My head feels muddled and I’ve felt low for the past few days. Today I woke up feeling the worst I’ve felt. As a result of this I have just binged on a jar of peanut butter. 

I’ve got a lot in my head. When I was binging and a tiny voice in my mind was telling me to stop, a much stronger voice was replying, “But you hate yourself. What’s the point in stopping if you hate yourself?” This hatred feels so deep and strong but I don’t really understand why. If I sit down and think about it, I don’t have many solid reasons to feel this way about myself. I can’t remember who, but I read an interview with someone last night and they said, “How can you be kind to something you hate?” It’s true.

I think I’m feeling down partly because after two months of staying with my parents, I’m starting to really miss living independently. I know this is a good thing because it would be more worrying if I didn’t want to leave, but it’s making me feel shit because although I miss the independence and want it, I don’t think I’m ready for it. But maybe I am, I don’t know. I think about all my friends who are living independently, keeping a job down, doing all the things that adulthood requires, and I want that, but I don’t know if I’d cope with it right now. The idea of it scares me, but I desperately don’t want it to. Do I think I wouldn’t cope because I feel so shit right now and it’s hard to see past that, or is the reason I’m feeling shit because I’m not living independently back in Manchester? I want the latter to be the case, but there’s something about it that doesn’t ring quite true, unfortunately. AGH. It’s all so tangled and I don’t know what’s true and what’s not and what’s simply a product of second guessing myself. I feel so lost and unmotivated and tired and like I don’t know where my life’s going. I don’t know what to do with my days apart from therapy and trying not to binge. Am I waiting for something? I don’t feel ready for adulthood but what else is there? I’m 23 and I have no choice but to live a life, but I don’t want to because it’s too frightening. I’m stuck in limbo between these two worlds. I’m scared of being fully present in life because it means I’m vulnerable to all of life’s ups and downs, but everyone seems to manage it so why would it be any different for me? 

One of my biggest fears which has pervaded my being for the last few years is that I’m simply not cut out for life. I’ve tried quite a few times to live independently, doing a course that I enjoy, earning money from working, and living in a house which I love with people I enjoy living with. But it has never been successful and I’ve always ended up back here. This makes it hard to see a different ending.

Surely it’s all about perspective though, isn’t it? How you decide to look at things? You always hear about people who experience something horrendous but don’t suffer as much as you would expect them to because of their mindset. Tweaking my mindset and my thinking patterns could be the thing that helps me get out of this. It’s just HOW. I guess I’ll talk to my therapist about this tomorrow.

Fuck

Fuck. I just binged. Fuck’s sake. I feel really really pissed off, so angry I want to cry. I want to binge again to stop these feelings, even though I know they’ll be so much worse after.

I don’t completely know why it happened. I guess I’m pretty wiped out (I’m due on tomorrow), which always makes me a bit more vulnerable. My mindset has been so much better recently which has helped me to resist the urges, but today I went back to my old ways of thinking about how amazing the tastes and sensations would be, rather than the horrible after-effects. I think I binged partly because I wanted to check that it was still there for me if I needed it, because this new mindset is totally brilliant but quite scary. I’m worried that I won’t be able to take the final step to stop the binging once and for all. I don’t want the rug to be pulled from underneath my feet.

Oh fuck, I desperately want to rewind so I can make a different choice. When I was doing it, it was strange, I felt completely detached from myself, like it wasn’t really happening. I wish. Oh god what have I done. My mind already feels fucked from it. I’ve been doing so well recently. Only in the last couple of days have I begun to look in the mirror and see my old body coming back, after all these months. I feel like I’ve fucked it up. My bra hurts. I need the day to be over now.