It was a really tough session with Dr Freud Dude. I am seeing patterns and changes but the work is exhausting. I had to battle through work – with the added challenge of seeing someone from the days before i entered the ED unit day hospital program. Ah, my head played hell; “they’ll think you’re a pig”, “they’ll go back and tell everyone how fat you are”, “you look shit today due to hayfever and Dr Freud Dude – they’ll tell everyone”. Fun.
The bus home was fraught with trying to not talk to a client about my disabilities without being rude.
Home – Ray running very late home. A phonecall from his family; a relative about to die in hospital.
I need a hug.
As Easter goes, my mood isn’t too bad. I have spent a lot of time with Ray and the Mafia cats…which is always a soothing balm. Sixteen years after Nana died on Maundy Thursday i still feel all the raw emotions come up to the surface.
A lot of my friends do family things over Easter, and it’s one of those times i feel the estrangement most. Yesterday a friend’s partner got rushed into hospital miles away from home. Her extended family died in Auschwitz, her parents died in her early thirties. She has no one, but her friends. It was a stark reminder of how common it is to feel the scariness of the situation.
I admitted to Dr Freud Dude today how hard i find feelings – particularly negative ones. I explored my elaborate distraction system – and it’s flaws, and nightmares. We looked at my perfectionism and how lonely it makes me, yet i still keep listening to it. How i feel at war with myself most of the time and how angry and frustrated i am with myself, which then sets off another spiral…ending up frustrated and angry at myself. I spoke about wanting to be the perfect child, and failing, and about trying harder to make an abusive relationship change, and failing.Angry at myself for not succeeding in either venture. I nearly spoke about the final thing i need to get on the table, but just chickened out. We were almost out of time. I did speak about my independence as he suggested i seemed to think i hold the key to recovery. I explained about working on the markets and being independent from a young age. He said “there is a difference between being independent from a firm foundation, and your situation which was independence due to severe neglect/deprivation”. These were such hard words to hear. To hear them is to feel them, and i’m scared of that.
Today I got home from work to a tell-
tale hospital letter. I sighed wondering what bad news lay inside it. I glanced at the Medics name and froze…here lay my liver scan results. I was about to find out if i had fatty liver disease due to anorexia. My heart lurched. I read the letter, and for once good news…my liver has some fatty deposits, but nothing to worry about…woohoo!
This saying has always made me wonder…yep, another door will open, but it won’t be the one that has just closed, and that can be very sad. With my health being as it is doors are closing. I’m trying to find the positives with new doors, it doesn’t mean that the ones that have closed aren’t painful.
I headed off to my session with Dr Freud Dude early this morning. The bus stop posse helped to shore me up. It was a tough session and an emotional one. I discussed my need for distractions and he suggested that there was a danger with distraction as you can lose yourself in them.
On the way through the city after my appointment I was part of a spontaneous anti BNP demo – me and about 6 others were walking down a street in the city when a transit van covered in BNP lies pulled up and this idiot started speaking filth through a microphone. So, me and 6 other strangers challenged their lies until they realised they weren’t welcome and drove off. Ours is a City of Sanctuary, I’m proud of that and will defend it. Nana who was very political and a suffragette would have been proud.
I finished early today and went for a pint (possibly one of my last) as i needed to write to my friend on death row. I’ve not heard from them for awhile and i’m worried about them. I’d planned to write on Sunday at the half marathon (that wasn’t), but as events unfolded it was clear sitting down to write to my mate wasn’t going to happen. Although they’re on death row i’m honest as to my own health. We’ve been writing to each other for 5 years through Lifelines, a charity that befriends prisoners on death row around the globe. I have no idea if the person i write to is guilty or not, but that’s not important or for me to know. My role is to support someone in their hardest times. When i’ve been feeling like taking my own life due to depression and anorexia this person has kept me alive. I remind myself how awful it would be for them if i, their friend took my life.
Tomorrow is the 16th anniversary of my Nan’s death. It is still very painful for me. The photo above is of her in her early twenties. She was born in 1895 and lived to 102. She was an amazing person. She had a tough life, but did lots of voluntary worry. She taught me the importance of fighting injustice. I’ve taken tomorrow off as annual leave and have my appointment with Dr Freud Dude, and then plan to go somewhere and think about my friend on death row and reflect on my Nana, who taught me so much and was my saving grace.