Category: friends

My Past Experience of Anorexia


TRIGGER WARNING – THIS IS ABOUT EATING DISORDERS (ANOREXIA)

This account is purely about my own experience of anorexia. This disease affects all sexes, not just women. It can also affect people of any age group. In my case, I was in my forties when it began. Treatment these days may well be different; I don’t know. If you are struggling with an eating disorder or suspect you may be, please seek help from your doctor or any of the helpline numbers given at the end of this post.

Anorexia isn’t about the food; it’s about control. I wanted to control my life but thought if I could control my body and weight, I’d start to feel better. How wrong I was.

It started with me cutting out fats and carbs like many people on diets. I began to lose weight and felt like I was achieving something. As I lost weight, I still wasn’t satisfied, though, convincing myself I was overweight and needed to lose just a few more pounds. I lost more weight, but I still wasn’t content. I began to develop rituals around food, such as cutting food up into tiny pieces to make them last longer or seem more and, weighing everything I ate, then totting up the calories. I stopped drinking coffee with milk and drank only black coffee and Diet Coke. Still not satisfied; eating salad wasn’t enough to control my habit. I began to weigh the lettuce, water well shaken out of it, and work out the calories in three thin slices of cucumber. The weight started to drop off me, but I couldn’t see how ill I was.

I need to make it clear that anorexia is not a choice, a fad, or a diet; it’s an extremely serious and dangerous illness, which is nearly always caused by significant trauma in childhood, as was the case with me.

More rituals developed, and the weight loss continued. I’m not going to go on to describe all those habits and routines because I DO NOT want this to read like an ‘instruction manual’ for anorexia. Suffice it to say; I ended up in the local psychiatric hospital on the eating disorders ward at a very dangerously thin weight of five and a half stone! I was confined to bed and only allowed to use the bathroom with a staff member present. It was so embarrassing.

My first meal there was presented to me two hours after I’d arrived. It was, to my horror, vegetable curry and rice followed by bread-and-butter pudding and two scoops of ice cream. It wasn’t a small portion, either. I don’t think I’d ever felt that sense of panic before. A nurse sat with me and insisted I ate every stone-cold mouthful. I cried, I sobbed, and I begged, all to no avail. I was made to eat all that food despite having terrible pain in my stomach. It seemed barbaric to me. It took me nearly three hours to force the food down. Other than that, they threatened to tube-feed me, and with my phobia of choking, I couldn’t bear the thought of that.

The eating disorders ward had strict rules. Everything was done on a reward and punishment basis. To begin with, I wasn’t allowed phone calls or visitors, not even my family, and I wasn’t allowed out of my room. Weeks passed, and as I gained weight, albeit reluctantly, I was ‘rewarded’ with a phone call to my daughter, then my son and my Mum. They were all worried sick about me and dreadfully upset that I was going through all of this at the same time, realising I was very ill and needed help. There was no way of ‘cheating,’ although some of the people there tried. We would have lost a reward if we lost weight, which was impossible with every mouthful being supervised. It was such a thoroughly miserable time. At the time, I thought it was tortuous; it certainly felt like it.

However, there are only three ways out of anorexia in my mind. One is to get better despite it being painfully hard work (but well worth it); the other is that you spend your life battling with your illness for, possibly, the rest of your years (and believe me, that’s pretty awful), or you die!! It’s as simple as that!

I began to make good progress and started to feel better physically. I was allowed to eat in the dining room with the other inpatients on our ward; I could go to activities and learn about the basic psychology of eating disorders. We were taught about CBT therapy and offered other forms of treatment once our minds had started to recover from the starvation. We were basically given another chance at life, and I was grateful for that.

Finally, after being in hospital for six whole months, I was allowed day leave, and then weekend leave etc. Eventually, I was allowed home but had to attend the day hospital every day.

I don’t think you are ever really ‘cured’ from an eating disorder, but for me, it’s like being in remission, and I never take my life or health for granted. Anorexia is an addiction as well as an illness. Like any addiction, you have to consider yourself in permanent recovery. Now, at the age of 65, I’m making the most of my time and intend to live the rest of my life without harming myself in this way. I’m happy in my life with two adult children and four gorgeous grandchildren. If anyone is reading this and recognises themselves in what I have written, please, please, seek help.


UK HELP: https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/

US HELP: https://www.helpguide.org/home-pages/eating-disorders.htm

AU HELP: https://au.reachout.com/articles/support-services-for-eating-disorders

(Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash)

Live Life – Note To Self (A Poem)

Do you remember the early days
when you were really a mess?
You caused your friends and family
an awful lot of distress

You never thought at that difficult time
you could grow and make a change
You were far too ill to see it, then
Psychotic and very deranged

You’re now no longer the child that died
You’ve rid yourself of the pain
You’re now a responsible adult
Cut free from shackles and chains

You’ve now begun to make peace with yourself
Don’t have all that pain inside
You pulled yourself up by your bootlaces
and new guidelines you’ve applied

You know life won’t always be easy
We all have our trouble, our strife
So make the most of every day
Because you only get one life

Now here you are in your sixties
and you still have a future ahead
Leave behind those constant regrets
Live your life to the fullest instead.




Photo by Sebastian Arie Voortman: https://www.pexels.com




Dear Guilt … (A Conversation)

Dear Guilt,

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and have decided that it’s high time for you and me to part company. I’ve been carrying you around like a large basket of groceries for many years, and you’re getting too heavy for me to manage anymore, so I finally made the decision to break up with you.

You can’t do that! You can’t manage without me in your life. I’ve always been with you, and you need me; you know you do!

No! I don’t need you anymore. Whether you like it or not, it’s time for us to go our separate ways. I won’t be held back by you; you’ve had me chained to your judgements and doubts for far too long.

But, please, don’t do this to us. We can’t survive without each other.

There is no us! I can survive quite happily without you pulling me down day after day, week in, week out. I don’t want you in my life now. It’s time for pastures new. I refuse to be dragged back to the past whenever you feel morose or emotional.

But what will you do without me to remind you of all those years you were abused … those years when you didn’t tell anyone? You know you should have told, don’t you!? Why did you keep it so quiet?  It’s such a massive part of you and a part of you that deserves not to be forgotten. Surely …

Now, listen here, Guilt, you’ve been reminding me of that for decades. Just stop it!! I know it wasn’t my fault – I was just a small child and too young to comprehend what was happening to me. I’m not going to feel bad about it any longer. I’ve discussed all this in my last lot of therapy. You continually pulled me down even then. I don’t know why I listened to you.

I thought you said you wanted to continue to discuss your past experiences with your new therapist when you get one. After all, why else go to see a therapist if not to deal with your past?

Look, I’ve done all that! I’ve thought it through thoroughly in the break. I don’t need to keep dragging it up from the past! Just because you want to cling to the pain and awful memories doesn’t mean I want to do that again. I’ve been there, done that, and worn the t-shirt. When I see a new therapist, it will be with a view to moving forwards, not to keep harping on about the past.

What about all those years you were an addict? You remember; when you’d get off your face with drugs and alcohol? You were hopeless without it, just like you’ll be hopeless without me. You know how worried and cross you made your family and friends. No one wanted to know you back then – only me – there was only you and me together. I never let you down. I was always there to remind you of how good I was to you, that I was the only one who stuck by your side.

My family and friends understand that I was ill back then. We’ve spoken about those times over the last few years. I was very mentally ill. They knew that, but they didn’t know what to do to help me. I had to sort myself out with help from the hospitals and doctors. And I did. And I didn’t need you lurking in my mind all day and night, trying to suck me back down. I do not want you in my life anymore! Do you hear me? Can’t you get this through your thick head? I’ve had enough of walking hand and hand with you.

But … you can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to us. I … we …. Listen, we can start again. I’ll be good to you. Honestly, I will.

Really? Seriously, Guilt??  Just go away!!

What do you mean, go away? You’ve always held me so close and told me how much you needed me. I needed you, too. I still do. You need me, too. Who will you be without me? Who would we be if we were not together? How would we live without each other? You can’t do this to me. I’ll die without you.

Look, Guilt, I’m not going to say this again. I’m sick to death of having you hanging around my neck. I don’t need you – do you get that!? You’re going whether you like it or not. You’re out. We’re over. I’m not going to feed you anymore. You can go and shrivel up in a corner and disappear. I don’t care, I do not care. Get it?

But … please, think again. You know you …

NO, GUILT!! NO! I TOLD YOU. I WON’T TELL YOU AGAIN. YOU’RE JUST A BULLY. JUST GET OUT OF HERE. BYEEEEE …




Photo by Road Trip with Raj on Unsplash





Busy, Busy, Busy

I’m suddenly so busy; I don’t know where to start
I decided last week to try my hand at art
Monday morning came, and I trotted off to town
Got soaked on the way as the rain thundered down

The art group was crowded, taking turns with the paint
and I really do not have the patience of a saint
I left rather early as I didn’t want to wait
with half a piece of work that I didn’t think was great

Tuesday morning is my own; perhaps time to write
I’m short on ideas, so will my piece be trite?
My imagination frazzled; do I really want to try,
or shall I stop here and now and simply say goodbye?

Tuesday afternoon, I’m at the gardening group
It gets pretty chilly; I was glad I’d taken soup
But nothing’s really growing, and the flowers are dead
I’ll wait till the spring and do something else instead

Wednesday night, I’m drumming; I have a brilliant time
I’m really in my element and feeling quite sublime
Thursday afternoons, I pick litter in the park
We walk around in twos like the creatures in the Ark

Friday comes around, and I have time for myself
I just cannot settle like the Elf on the Shelf*
I ought to read or write, but my concentration’s poor
not helped by the postman who is knocking at my door

Saturday at last, and I am seeing my best friend
I hope that our relationship will never, ever end
We’ll have lunch together; dip our biscuits in our tea
We think so similarly, and we rarely disagree

And finally, Sunday comes, and I’m free to lie in bed
I sleep too heavily and wake up with a sore head
The shopping comes from Tesco; now there’s food to eat
I snuck a bar of chocolate in; my happiness complete!


*Elf on the Shelf (for those who don’t know it) is a classic game that children get involved in at Christmas. There is a toy elf, and the parents/carers place it in different places around the home every night, so delighted children think the elf is moving around itself. My youngest grandchildren are sure that the elf is magic because of this!

Image by Brian Merrill from Pixabay


My Therapy – The End and The Beginning

As some of you will know, I had my last therapy session with my therapist, Chris, this afternoon. I’m not going to say it wasn’t tough because it was. We talked about what progress I’d made, even when I felt I wasn’t making any. We spoke about my poetry and whether I was going to continue writing. I am, naturally. I NEED to write – it’s the breath from my soul, and I would be lost and speechless without it. After I got home, admittedly in floods of tears, I wrote this poem to clear my mind and express my thoughts.

I’m thinking of taking a short break – not from writing, but, just for a while, from trying to keep up with all the blogs I follow (and that’s a lot) because I need some headspace to take stock of what I’m feeling, what I need and where I want to go from here. I will still be here and will, at least, try to read some blogs when I’m able to. I hope you will all understand.

Thank you so much to each of you who have been beside me and supported me through such a difficult few months. I’m eternally grateful. I’ll be back before too long.

With my love, Ellie Xx 💗🤍💗

~~~

My last session left me feeling distraught
I’m not being brave like I know I ought
Just before leaving, I asked for a hug
The answer was no, and I felt like a mug

She did, momentarily, hold my hand
Just briefly, though, as hugging was banned
I thought that this was so very kind
It calmed my heart and soothed my mind

I duly filled out the last questionnaire
To see, on the whole, how well I’d faired
I could see my progress, and more than a bit
I was somewhat surprised; I have to admit

Now, I have to wait for quite some time
I’ve got an awful long way to climb
I won’t be with Chris, but someone new
I hope I can bond with that person, too

She said it’ll be months before I’m seen
I’m wondering what I can do in between
I’m trying to find some way to cope
without completely losing all hope

I owe it to Chris, and I owe it to me
Not to turn this day into a tragedy
I hope I’ll be able to continue to write
It helps me to battle, and it helps me fight

I’m debating whether to take time out
To let myself fully get over this bout
I want to write, but less time to read
Right now, I have to do what I need.

“The last time always seems sad, but it isn’t really. The end of one thing is only the beginning of another.”

― Laura Ingalls Wilder, These Happy Golden Years

(Photo by Rowan Freeman on Unsplash)




Raw

My heart is still heavy, but I’m wanting to write
I’ve opened my ears and sharpened my sight
I’m trying my best to keep trudging along
Not to do anything drastic or wrong

Spent the weekend with the kids and my son
I’ve let go of the thoughts of firing the gun
Thanks to my friends here for sticking by me
Without all of you, I’d doubt I’d still be

I’m busy this week, which might just be good
Not really up to it, but know that I should
Still don’t feel able to read a lot
My stomach just feels full of knots

Christmas, for me, is a lonely time
But, I guess I’ll have quiet to pen a rhyme
Lost my Mum on the 30th of December
During the holidays, it’s tough to remember

I’ve still got an awful long way to go
The process is still incredibly slow
I’m dreading my therapy, with the end being near
January the fourth, I’m still full of despair

Before that time comes, there’s a three-week break
The thought of this makes me a physically ache
With the end being nigh, and that’ll be that
Somebody else will sit where I once sat

After that, I have to wait on the list
My counsellor will be so sorely missed
Everything is exposed and so raw
Will it be like this forevermore?

Just to let you know, I’m taking things slowly with getting back to reading and commenting and am limiting myself to just a few blog posts a day for the time being. I’m missing all my regular bloggers, but am doing the best that I can. I wanted to write something today and will probably continue to do so as the days go by because it helps me to process my feelings. I’ve got a very busy few days coming up (unusual for me), so please bear with me. Thank you to all of you, my readers and regular bloggers, for having faith in me and for your kind patience.

Love and Hugs, Ellie Xx 💙💙💙



Catharsis

Let my fears float away
in a hot air balloon
above the dark clouds
and up to the moon

All my pain and the anger
sent up to the sky
the winds blow them gently
as I watch them fly by

Rip up scarred words
and burn them with sage
watch them all wither
and releasing the rage

Try punching a pillow
or let out a scream
digging for gold
or my lost self-esteem

Bang on a drum
play music so loud
don’t need permission
it’s fine; it’s allowed

Write down my thoughts
draw out a sketch
pin them up on the wall
and take a deep breath

Let your grievances lapse
write a gratitude list
swaddle the hurting
while angels are kissed.

I’ve had a more positive day today, so it’s made a nice change and was quite some relief, too. I hope it lasts, but even if it’s just a little taster of how life could be, it’s been good to be able to write something a bit more upbeat.

I wrote this after having a conversation with my counsellor yesterday. She asked me, totally out of the blue, what I’d like to do with all my pain, trauma and nightmarish memories. On the spur of the moment, without giving it much thought, I just came out with, ‘I’d like to put them in a hot air balloon and let them float up to the sky until the balloon is completely out of view.’

(I’ve also just started reading a book by a WP blogging friend, Tamara. If you’re reading this, Tamara, thank you for all your support and for letting me know about your books. I can see so much of myself in them. If you’d like me to link you to this post, just contact me, and I’ll be more than happy to do so.)

I’ve just started to draw a sketch of my imaginary balloon. It’s too late to finish and post it here tonight, but if I get it finished by tomorrow, I’ll add it to this post then.





Not exactly a sketch, but a very amateur attempt at drawing/colouring a picture of a hot air balloon. As you can see, I’m not an expert at art!

Ellie Thompson

Little Boxes

Tie it up in little boxes with a ribbon and a bow
Tuck it all away inside, so nothing is on show
What to do with all the trauma creeping through my brain
Without support, where can I stuff down this amount of pain?


Secure those feelings firmly behind closed cupboard doors
Hide away from peeping eyes; they’re not wanted anymore
I thought I might be winning; I’d almost passed the post
Having to lock it up again while I haven’t got a host*


C* said the time has come now for me to put it all away
Leave sleeping dogs to lie rather than come out to play
Waiting for the next in line could be a year or more
Counting down the days while my brain keeps the score


The bonds we built between us were kind but very strong
Boundaries as they should be, respectful; nothing wrong
I should be feeling tougher, but my heart and soul cry out
I should have trust in myself, but no, I’m full of doubt


She said I could leave notes for the one who’s coming next
Just in case my mind’s in hiding and my memories repressed
I’m dreading the goodbye day; I mustn’t make a fuss
I’ll just be left with me alone and not the both of us.

NOTE: This poem is about a conversation I had with my counsellor this week in reference to my counselling coming to an end. She was suggesting that I try not to explore my childhood trauma too deeply in the few weeks we have left for fear of it becoming overwhelming again, and then having no one to process this with. She described it as putting all the trauma memories in a box until I see the next counsellor, whoever that is going to be. The waiting time could be up to a year. I can’t lie and say I’m not terrified because I am.

I’m so very grateful for all the support I’ve had from my blogging and real-life friends regarding alternative ways of finding low-cost therapy. I’m still searching this out, but at the same time, the thought of starting all over again with someone new is extremely daunting. Time will tell …

Love Ellie xx 💙

(* C and host refer to my counsellor)


(Image source – Pexels Free Images)

My Day (Today) – Update

Yesterday, I wrote a post called, ‘The Day Before‘. So many of you (my friends and blogging buddies) were encouraging, kind, thoughtful, and caring, sending me your love and best wishes. I can’t tell you how much that support and love from you meant to me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. However, as I had feared …

BAD NEWS

I got home at about 3.30 pm (it’s now 8.15 pm), but I’ve been trying to get myself back into a space where I can communicate without breaking down again. I could hardly see the screen on my laptop through my tears. I feel totally exhausted from crying so much.

The counselling with my lovely counsellor, C., is definitely ending on 21st December, and there is absolutely no chance of continuing to see her again after that date. I’m devastated and heartbroken 💔. I have been through so much despair and heartache with her trying to come to terms with the frequent child sexual abuse and rape that I suffered from the age of eight until I was twelve. I haven’t said those exact words on my blog before, apart from the odd mention in my poetry, but, there it is – in black and white, as that is the truth of what happened to me.

I’m only part of the way through working on this awful trauma, and now I will be completely alone and without my counsellor. We spoke, in between my tears, about going onto the waiting list for general counselling, which I would have to pay for. Up until now, I’ve been treated under the Eating Disorders’ umbrella, which has been free. General counselling would be less specific and, although, my eating habits aren’t as bad as they were, I definitely can’t say that I’ve recovered from those issues.

C said she would speak to the organisation’s manager to see whether they would even accept me under the general team. She said, as I feared, there is a long waiting list. As it is, the counselling offices are closed from the 21st of December until the middle of January 2023. So, I know I’m in for a long wait. I feel panic-stricken at the thought of going it all alone until a place comes up (that’s if they accept me). I really don’t know how to cope with this situation. If I’m accepted (and I won’t know this till December), I’ve got to find the funds to pay for it. As I said in my last post, I can’t afford to heat my home this winter (I appreciate the ideas that people have suggested that might help). Something is going to have to give. It’s a case of whether I heat my home or eat decent food.

Assuming I am accepted, it will mean starting all over again with a completely new and unfamiliar counsellor. I don’t know if I can face going over all those painful memories once again. I feel despairing. My doctor is phoning me on Friday; I will have to update her. There is nothing else she can do. I’m exhausted with all the emotion and will have an early night accompanied by two Diazepam to attempt to give me some respite from what feels like being in the hall of crazy, distorted mirrors at the funfair. It just sums up how my life feels today – crazy and distorted.

Please forgive me if I missed reading your blogs today. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I will catch up with some, or I may have to miss today’s blogs and start afresh tomorrow. Thank you for listening. Until tomorrow … Love Ellie Xx 🖤

Pretence

Being honest here and speaking my truth as I always do, I’m not okay today. I don’t feel much like the success I referred to in my last poem. I saw my counsellor this afternoon. She was going to let me know if I could continue to see her as my funding has nearly run out. I’d spoken with the organisation’s manager on Friday, and she assured me she would discuss my case with C. (my counsellor) and that I’d have a decision by this week’s session. As it turned out, the manager hadn’t spoken to C. I expect there’s a good reason for this; however, it doesn’t help my distress and worry at not knowing where I stand. C. told me she wouldn’t be there next week either, so I now have to wait another two weeks before knowing what will happen. I feel lost and alone.

PRETENCE

It’s tough pretending to be okay
when I’m absolutely not
I find myself smiling and chatting away
to stop others sensing the rot

~~~

I’m trying to write my song differently
I’m trying to appear upbeat
There’s far too much for others to hear
if it’s only the pain I excrete  

~~~

If only they knew what the truth was
that I’m shrivelling up inside
so I stay quiet and keep my thoughts to myself
while my innocent inner child died

~~~

I currently stand on a precipice
I’m looking for a safe way to go
I join in the fun with a crowd of friends
not letting all my pain show

~~~

I’m angry inside with that b******
He’s the one who caused all this sh*t
So, why am I carrying the blame in my heart
when I don’t belong in this pit

~~~

He should have been tried in a court
They asked me if I wanted to tell
but I was far too scared of speaking the truth
I’d already been through hell

~~~

If he were alive, I would prosecute
I’d make him stand facing the beak**
I’d tell all of his vile wicked deeds
as now it is my turn to speak.


(** The word ‘beak’ is an English slang word for judge or magistrate)