Tomorrow is the day. The day of my mental health tribunal and I must warn you at the beginning of this post that what I’m going to write may be upsetting and triggering. Writing this is opening up my vulnerability and it’s difficult to write.
Tomorrow a group of people get to decide my future but first I’d like to focus on some news I got today. 19 units were approached for me and only 1 accepted me….if this placement breaks down and doesn’t work then the final option will be palliative care.
Back to tomorrow, they may decide I can go home and I would then have no nutritional intake and would die from starvation or suicide or they decide that I have to stay on my section and go to Coventry to the new unit on the 3rd May. If the latter is decided I plan to run, to end my life because quite frankly it is unbearable and tortureous. I can’t do this and I’m sure that sooner or later this will end up in palliative care. I feel like a hopeless case.
Things are far from easy right now. I have a tribunal this week to see if my section can be lifted which is stressing me out and the date to go to cygnet is getting closer and I’m generally just not very well.
Last night I planned to take my life, I concealed the object I was going to use in my slippers but got caught out…cue medication and restraints and a lot of tears and trying to run away. I eventually managed to get some sleep but even in my dreams anorexia was present. I don’t seem to get a break these days.
Today hasn’t been any easier. I ligatured and tried to abscond this morning ending up in two floor restraints and then more tears, medication and restraining this afternoon. I am exhausted.
I have to be honest here, I hope they lift my section on Wednesday because I can’t carry on living like this. If I were an animal suffering so much they would put me down. Why shouldn’t I have the right to die?
Easter with an eating disorder can be extremely difficult, just like Christmas if not harder. This year whilst I’m stuck in hospital being tube fed I won’t have to face any Easter eggs or family feasts which is a relief in a way but it also makes me feel sad. I wish I could join in with the world and celebrate. I wish I could be around my family and go for a nice Easter walk. I wish I could taste chocolate on my tongue. I wish I could tuck into a roast…but even when I’ve been home Easter has been a challenge.
Just like any other celebrations, birthday, Christmas and Easter became days I tried to give myself ‘off’ from my eating disorder but of course you can’t just have a day off from a mental illness. Generally suffering from anorexia means my diet is restrictive but on these days I would almost give myself permission to eat and with the mixture of excitement, fear, extreme hunger and excuse my language but ‘fuck it’ attitude I would end up binging. I would be scared of the Easter eggs I’d received and would want them out the way so I’d eat them all and then physically and mentally I’d end up feeling rubbish. But it wouldn’t just last one day, it’d last weeks. It’d trigger a splurge of binging and everyday I’d be cramming all the food I could find into my mouth. Easter would ‘ruin’ a restrictive intake and my weight would increase to a number and size I was uncomfortable with. One tiny day would make me spiral out of control for weeks to come. What was meant to be a happy celebration would become a nightmare.
I hope that next year I do get to have a happy Easter. I hope I’m home for it and that I can eat a cadburys creme egg and an Easter egg and have lunch with my family before going for a walk in the fresh Spring air.
I would like to wish all my followers a happy Easter and I truly hope it is a happy Easter. I send you all my best wishes and hope the day doesn’t bring trauma and fear to you.
Building a life worth living is a big part of DBT and it’s something I haven’t worked on much or even thought about until recently. I’ve been unwell for well over a decade and have been in hospital for a year and a half. I’ve never been a mentally well adult and have not been able to function at a normal level since school. For these reasons I have always found it very difficult to think of a life outside of my illness and in some ways that can hold me back in recovery. However just weeks before I’m due to go to a specialist unit which can help me I have an idea of how life will look when I come out of hospital.
I know I won’t come home fully recovered and jumping with the joys of spring but I imagine I’ll be able to function. I want to attend outpatient appointments with my mental health team but alongside that I want to work in a bakery, go to ballet classes, help out with the younger ballet classes and prepare and cook my own meals and snacks from scratch. I could then channel my obsession with food down a productive and enjoyable route whilst still enjoying dance and exercise at a sensible level.
If I can maintain that lifestyle for a while then the next step will be learning to drive and getting a place of my own even if that’s renting a studio flat. Then the next step, and the one I’m most excited about will be becoming a mother. I’ve already decided for very personal reasons that I want to be single so I will go to a clinic and use a sperm donor to conceive.
I think it is good to go to this new unit with an image of what I want my life to look like when I come home. So this is me thinking of building a life worth living.
Today the weather has been beautiful and the sun has beamed in through my hospital window. I opened the window and felt the slight breeze on my skin but that is the closest to outside I will get.
I’m not allowed outside at the moment. I’m just stuck inside the hospital and it’s getting to me today. I hate being poorly. The sunshine made me think of sitting in the garden, of going to the beach, of eating ice cream and having barbecues. I miss the social aspects of these, of spending good quality time with family and friends. Two years ago today I was on a beach with my best friend and I’d give anything to be back in that place today, not just location wise but mentally too.
The shining sun has made me realise today just how much life I’m missing out on. When it’s raining or dark or cold it’s easy to feel comfortable sat in bed in front of an iPad screen but on a day like today I just want to get out there and live. I want to see things, experience things, be with others. I don’t want this hospital life.
I got ill with mental illness very young and in a way it stole a lot of my childhood and teenage years away from me. I didn’t get the experiences that other young people had. I never went to university and experienced freshers week, I never experienced my first drink on my 18th Birthday or pizza parties, school canteen food, having fun. Instead I experienced self harm, starvation, suicide attempts and binge eating. For all of my secondary school life I was in a very dark place. And whilst I had to grow up very quickly in some ways, in other ways I remain the twelve year old girl I was when this illness really took its grip and that’s hard. It’s hard to be in an adult world still feeling like a child and only with the life experiences of a child.
I have spent all my life being looked after. As a child I was looked after by my mum and dad and as an adult I have been looked after by nurses and support workers. I crumble with the slightest bit of responsibility that is given to me. For the past year I haven’t even showered or gone to the toilet alone. In fact when I was in the secure unit I wasn’t even trusted to hold the toilet paper myself and was handed it one square at a time.
I’ve experienced trauma and pain and my illnesses have been very distressing and quite frankly horrible. In many ways I have been through more than most adults and yet those very things are what have kept me a child in an adults body.
I still long for my mother, for her hugs and kisses and hand holding. My dad manages my finances because I cannot. I kiss and cuddle and coo my dog. I have teddies on my bed and sleep with the light on. I wear children’s clothes because that’s all that will fit me. I have to ask permission to do anything and I am often told ‘no’. The slightest thing upsets me and throws me into complete and utter turmoil. Tears run down my face, sobs escape my mouth and arms and legs flail. Yet I am old enough to be married with children and have a mortgage and that’s hard. I feel like society puts expectations on me that I cannot meet and my illnesses and situation keep me from growing up even when I’m meant to be a grown up. It’s hard and confusing, scary and shameful to admit but whilst I may be in my twenties, mentally I am still twelve.
A month today I will be transferring from the hospital I’m currently in to my new unit, Cygnet in Coventry. I know pretty much nothing about the place which terrifies me. I have no idea about routine, about whether I’ll be allowed my iPad/internet or what the deal is with visitors. I will be going to a place I’ve never been to with people I’ve never met and will be expected to stay there for a long time.
I’m dreading my last night in this hospital, I doubt I’ll sleep knowing what will happen the next day and I will be very sad to say goodbye to the staff here. I’m scared to leave, I’m used to the staff, the routine, everything. I know where I am and what is happening. I don’t want to leave that.
I’m dreading the car journey down there despite it being with staff I’m very close to. Those two hours will be full of anxiety and fear. It’ll be like a very long goodbye and goodbyes are never nice.
I can’t even begin to imagine how alone and scared I’ll feel tucked into my new bed on my first night there, so many miles away from everything and everyone I know.
My only hope is that I win my appeal at my mental health tribunal later this month otherwise a month today this will be the reality I face.