Coffee and a hot chocolate please....

I was going to write a really positive post, because life is going really well at the moment with me and Ian... I'll still write about it, but this time I find a caveat.

We have just been so great over these past few days, like yesterday he said he loved me during sex... it was unwarranted, it was unneeded, I didn't do anything special yet he still said it anyway, because (or at least I hope) purely because he meant it. It's moments like those that just give me butterflies and I couldn't stop smiling. It made me feel amazing. And there's just generally been happiness, I feel so good about life with him and I'm starting to think of a future together again, and not just getting from one day to the next.

And then I find a receipt on the floor so I pick it up, it's from a coffee shop for a coffee and a hot chocolate on the 19th, when I was at work all day... Now it could be for a whole myriad of people; it could be for Den, or Tabs, or anyone... But he didn't tell me about it, he didn't say "Oh I met up with so-and-so today" which just makes the mind wonder just that little bit more, because I don't care who he meets up with for the most part (perhaps Eva Green I might be a little on edge for), but it's the not telling, and finding out through a receipt just really cuts me to my core. I now have a million and one questions racing around my head and I want to burst into tears, but he's lying asleep in the next room to get up at any minute.
I can't say anything because everything has been so great that I don't want to ruin it, but there's only so much biting of my tongue I can do...

Anorexia.

I suppose eating disorders are really up in the air at the moment; HFC coming in leaps and bounds, creating this presentation for the OT students, people struggling generally, a swarm of media articles shoving it in our faces... Is it really any wonder I'm feeling a bit fragile?
All the same, it has made me think, and I was talking to S today during the presentation and it has truly made me realise how far I've come; granted at times I don't see it as a good thing, but I have... I am no longer the girl that would puke in plastic bags and hide them in her wardrobe, nor the girl who would prefer to hide plain toast in her boots than eat it, the girl that would spit out food in her napkin and feed it to the dogs and purge in fields. I am a completely different person who is for the most part healthy and happy. I know no longer have this secret controlling my every, living, breathing thought... I am me. I am not the anorexic, the one my parents worry about.

Through all of my research for this presentation, and through personal interest as well, I've been reading about Karen Carpenter and it does make me think, she died due to anorexia... She had such talent and beauty, most of which people could only dream of, and her life was robbed by this illness. I definitely don't want to be like that, so yeah sometimes I idealise what it's like to be ill, and think that I miss it, but once put in perspective, I do realise that in fact I really don't want to be ill again.

Letting go of Anorexia.

I think one of the main things that might be keeping me back from fully recovering is my comparison to others, I look at people who still suffer from an eating disorder and I judge myself... I look at their thighs, their waists, their arms, everything and wish I was like that still. I look at myself today, and I can admit that I look alright... Having curves does make me look good, my favourite jeans fit me and I do look alright, but it's still that being waif-like and fragile I long for. I'm trying to express how I feel, and even in a blog that no one can read, I still can't pinpoint the reasons why. It's not a physical "I want to be thin", yet I don't quite know what it is. Maybe it's physically being able to see that I'm unhappy because I can't admit it any other way, maybe it's the safety net it provides in retrospect, maybe it's having that level of control over something in my life. I don't know. All I know is that I do miss it. I'm happier now for the most part than I ever was when I was ill; I'm not stupid, I remember the agonising, the lack of control, the unhappiness that came with Anorexia, but I still can't let go of it, not completely, not 100%.

Lying

I hate people that lie... I think it's just pointless and unnecessary.... Excuse me whilst I go and have lunch with a penguin.

Meh

Having spent the evening at work and talking to A about it in general (rather than the specifics) it has made me think. I wish that we could not be so up in arms with each other the whole time, what I should have done, in retrospect, is not said anything and said I was fine, and nothing was the matter, because I know that having spent the evening at work I would've felt fine about it. I couldn't help having a 'bug up my ass' because I didn't almost subconsciously, I didn't act grumpily on purpose at all, it was obviously just me expelling grumpiness... Because I really don't care about A coming round and playing xbox until silly o'clock in the morning, I don't. It's a completely reasonable request as he said, and I truly don't care... It was just the thought, in my over-tired state, of not being able to crash and cuddle up to my boyfriend after working, but instead having to walk on tiptoes and hide in the bedroom. That was purely it, the thought was just not appealing. As I tried to explain, I didn't tell him how I felt to try and change things, or to make him feel guilty or whatever else... It was just how I was feeling and he asked. However, retrospect is a beautiful thing and I'm sure I'll learn from my mistakes and whatever else.

What I have really realised/noticed, is that I'm fed up of getting so upset the whole time, and not having a backbone when it comes to him... I wish I had enough self-esteem/confidence/balls to just be like "whatever, I know how I feel, he would've calmed down later" but because he kept winding me up, and I wanted him to see that I wasn't doing all of these negative things he was accusing me of, I just got more and more upset.
I never wanted to be one of those highly-strung, emotional women, but I'm becoming one because I'm so low anyway, I can't seem to cope with anything out of the ordinary, and especially with him because of how he's acted in the past etc. it does feel like it's a whole lot worse than it actually is.

Driving back, I did admit to myself that I think I should go to the doctors, but I don't know if I could face it, particularly telling him that I need to go because I'm dreading his reaction, and in the inevitable scoffing at the thought of it.
We'll see...

Just a tad over-tired...

I am so freaking over-tired I don't think I've got any room for any normal emotions. I just want to sleep or cry, or both. As soon as the 2nd of May is over I'll be slightly happier, although I am still unsure how on earth I'm going to pass any of my exams, let alone write a high standard piece of EU coursework, and it's all getting a bit overwhelming, but I also think I'm too tired to realise the extent to which I'm worrying about my work. C'est la vie. Trying to stay positive with Ian. Blaaaaaaaaahhh. We'll see...

You are a perpetual drain on my life. Ouch.

"Yes I love you... Despite my better fucking judgement"

"You are a perpetual drain on my life"

Just the kind of things you like to hear from the man that apparently fucking loves you. I fucking hate my life. I don't know how much longer I can do this for. This is destroying me.
I'm trying to rationalise it in my head that perhaps I'm over-tired, and so I'm only seeing the negatives in the situation, but it just seems like he was basically accusing me of taking the money, which I didn't. He didn't say it outright, but then again he didn't need to... Saying things like "Well I don't need to take the money, because if I want something I'll buy it because I have the money..." says, or at least in my eyes, that therefore my process of deduction you took it as you have less money than me.
It's just one thing after another.
I just the potential thought that he (or anyone else for that matter) doesn't trust me. For one thing, it's just not a nice feeling, and also I worry that he'll justify somehow within himself that it means it'll be okay for him to cheat on me for all of these negative reasons (like he did to C with me)

I don't know.

Okay. Bit calmer since last night and slightly less angry. I think what just fucks me off is his inability to acknowledge that he has done wrong, he has hurt my feelings unnecessary... and he can't just say sorry. It's not rocket science. He said "it's not the end of the world is it"...and although, technically it is not the end of the world, it feels like the comings of to me, as it just reinforces the view that we are not working, we're not going to be happy, and the demise of our relationship is inevitable.

In other news, I look fat, pretty much 100% of the time, and it's fucking me off.

I can't take this anymore. I don't want to be in this relationship anymore. He can go and fuck Becky for all I care. I want to die. I want to slit my fucking wrists.

I wish I'd never looked...

Eugh. I feel disgusted with myself. I have NOT lost weight, in fact I've gained it... I am a disgustingly revolting horrendous weight. I feel like it's going to haunt me all of today, and forever until I do something about it. I feel horrific. Vom.

In more positive news, I'm going to try and not let H get me down, and just go with the flow, and keep up to date with things. Blah blah blah. I want to cry.

ED crazy bitch.

I've really noticed over these past few days how sensitive I'm being around food etc. I wouldn't say it's subconscious, but I'm beginning to feel more and more "aware" of the want to be thin; usually I can override it, rationalise it, acknowledge it but not to do anything about it. However this past week, Ian has pointed out a few times that I'm looking thinner, and I do feel thinner some of the time, and although I have done nothing to bring about this loss of weight, I feel good for it, and want to prevent weight gain, and the thought of putting on weight does terrify me... I'm not quite at the stage of beginning to restrict again, but I fear that if I don't do something soon, I will begin to again. I think I'll weigh myself tomorrow and see where I'm at, and go from there... Although, having written all of this, all I can feel is the rolls of fat on my stomach peeling over my pajama bottoms, and I feel disgusted in myself thinking of everything I've eaten today.

Also, when H said that A seems to have lost weight and she could feel her ribs and spine when she hugged her, it felt like a stomach had plummeted and I actually thought to myself "I can't see her now", knowing that she's going to be thin... I actually don't want to see my best friend because there's a possibility she's going to be horrendously thin... This is not normal, and I don't like it. I want to see my best friend, but I just can't stand feeling so fat compared to her. I don't know, my mind is such a minefield at the moment.

And of course I would have to be stupid enough to look at that bloody Nikki Grahame article, and all I can do is analyse her ribs, her arms, her legs, her stomach, her face, her calorie intake... Think to myself, how could I do that amount of exercise per day, and why is her calorie intake so high yet she's so thin.

Stupid, stupid, stupid eating disordered mind.

Why?!?

I may have had a couple of drinks, but my emotions are still thoroughly in check and I'm not stupid... I am 99% convinced he is contemplating cheating on me with her... I just know it. He is acting more than just fucking friendly. I hate her, I hate him... I can't bare this. I am literally in tears... Every time I rationalise it, he just proves me wrong. Why can't he just love me. Why? Why! Or if he does love me, why does he insist on doing this to me...

I think what makes this 100 times worse, and why it feels like a kick in the stomach is because I had just accepted it, convinced myself that I was just being paranoid, and nothing was happening, and we were a happy couple, but nope, back to square fucking one. And of course I can't say anything because he's ill, and I've got to look after him... I am fucking human after all... And I just want to hold him, and make him feel better, but the thought of him with another woman just makes me physically sick. I went and cried in the bedroom under the premise I was getting into my pajama's...

I want to do something, anything... I need to do something. I need to know. I need her to know that I exist, his girlfriend of 4 and half years exists... The girlfriend who will look after him when he's puking, and he stays with him when he hits her, and spits at her... I want her to know that I exist. I need to know whether he is contemplating cheating on me. I need him to know the harm this is doing to me, because at this moment in time I want to die, the thought of him being with another woman, it makes me want to die. I want to run away and never see anybody ever again. As I write this, tears are streaming down my cheeks at the thought of it.

Please, please, please Lord don't let him be cheating on me. Please.

Love

Not moany... Just thoughtful and slightly reminiscent. Doing some more to my 'Ian and Moo' scrapbook, sticking cards in, poems, pictures etc. and it just made me think about how in love we used to be; I mean I know it was a kind of honeymoon period when I first went to uni and he realised he loved me and everything like that, and of course it brought a whole host of negatives as well, but it was love, the kind that gives you butterflies, and makes you want to smile all day long, because the man who you always liked, finally loves you. We were sexy, and passionate. I know that nowadays we are obviously a lot busier, and we have become quite complacent, and a lot has happened over this past year. I just really hope that our love continues to burn so strong, and it may not be so obvious and in your face like it used to be, but I can at least continue to fill my scrapbook with little momento's of our relationship and look back again in a couple of years and know that we are still in love.

In the poem he wrote to me when he gave me my ring, he said... "so with you now goes this ring, through all times and strife, as well with you goes I, if you wish, for the rest of my life".

I hope so <3

-facedesk-

Okay, okay... I know all I do is moan, and whinge about this, but it's one thing that really gets me down... No I wasn't have a little 'dig'... It was just a fact, you don't keep me up to date with things, and I try to keep you up to date, and you say one day would be great for skyping, and then you don't turn up, and I try to keep you in the loop, but you don't keep me in the loop. It would be nice, just the occasional message saying "this is what I'm doing" so I don't find out through the facebook page. It makes me feel like a right numpty, and just enforces the image that I do barely anything to contribute.

Now this IS stressing me out.

Rationality Makes a Lot More Sense...

I'm trying to identify my 'disordered' thinking, the thoughts that make me think the worst, not the best, and trying to think about it rationally. I'm not sure whether it's working or not, but it's got to be better than thinking the worst and getting myself all worked up.

Just got to hope that Ian isn't cross with me when he gets back from bag-packing for not going; hypothetically he shouldn't be, as I gave him plentiful options for me to go as well, but we'll see. Just got to remind myself, that he is extremely tired, and has still got a 12 hour shift ahead of him, and so that's the reason, and he's not cross at me per se. We'll see.

Day 7 of not smoking. Doing well. I spent all of yesterday barely thinking about having a cigarette, despite being surrounded by chain-smokers. Granted I was ill so couldn't smell anything, but still... There were a couple of times when I thought "wouldn't it be nice", but no longing, or hankering for one as I have felt during the week. I know I can do this :)

Self esteem. What self esteem?

My self esteem is shot to pieces. I mean, it was never at any great strengths to begin with, but it is slowly disintegrating into nothing, and the main reason why, is that he constantly criticises me. All the time. I don't work hard at my job. University is a doss. All I do is moan (which yes I do, but it doesn't have to be a critique as heck he moans A LOT). I'm ugly. I'm irritating. I'm lazy. The list is endless, and it's just worn  me down too much now... It really hit me yesterday, when despite the fact that I spent the day doing something for him, for his organisation, and I did work hard (despite the fact I was knackered and my feet really hurt), I still did a good job, and I raised a lot of money, but all he could do was criticise me. It's physically exhausting.

Part of me just keeps on thinking, this is not the man I fell in love with... This was the man that constantly pushed me to do anything I wanted to do, taught me to begin to love myself again, to not define myself through my weight, to think that if I want to do something, I can do it... Encouraged my ventures. Now, I don't know... I remember driving back from Reading with him, talking about my plans for my Bulimia Clinic and him being proud of me, and talking about how I could actually do it... Now all he does is make jibes at people who suffer from eating disorders, and makes remarks such as "if I want any help off you, I have to have an eating disorder" (which is of course not true). He used to not be able to keep his hands off me, now I don't feel 'sexy' in his eyes at all... and I would've thought I'd be more physically attractive now rather than at the beginning of our relationship as I have hips, boobs, a bum etc. And lastly, I did not fall in love with the man that I am now scared of.
But because I have no self-esteem, part of my wonders, is it me that's changed? Perhaps I'm higher maintenance than beforehand (but I had an eating disorder beforehand?)... Maybe I am uglier, lazier, less enthusiastic, more moany etc. But the rational side of my brain, which doesn't usually win, is just telling me, that he has driven me to this... He has ground me down, so I have no backbone, and I get far too upset too quickly... I can cope with most other things... It's just him I can't cope with when things go tits up.

I know some of the time it is banter, and I'm fine with it, and we laugh, and joke, and play, but sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's really hurts me the things he says.

I am overwhelmed with the amount of work I've got to do for revision, as I truly understand nothing, and I just don't understand how I'm going to get it all done, especially as I've lost two days to bag-packing... Yes, I could've done some in the evening after work on thursday, but who wants to do revision once you've been working hard all day?

I'm just going to have to do a lot today before I go to work, and maybe do some tomorrow morning or evening (I hate easter...), and then do some in the evening after bag-packing, and then work my ass off tuesday day and evening. When all I really want to do is catch-up on my sleep a bit.

Okay, so here goes a productive day.

-repeats to self-

I am a fully grown adult, and I do not need to cry. I am a fully grown adult, and I do not need to cry.

At this moment in time, I should have nothing to feel miserable about.... So why did I stare longingly at the Anglia Square multi-storey car-park. This is getting a bit scary; it's a bit beyond suicidal ideation... It's a longing at times.

freaking out BIG TIME!

Okay I'm having a major fucking freak-out... As in I am literally screaming "no"... Why? Because Ian wants me to choose somewhere to eat tonight. Why am I freaking out? I have no fucking idea, but I am, I am literally crying... And I'm sure it's got something to do with the nicotine, and everything else, and blah blah, blah... But I can't make a decision. I don't know where I want to eat. I hate making decisions. I don't like making decisions. I don't like eating. I don't want to be fat. And most of all, I really really really don't want Ian to be cross at me for being indecisive. I'm trying to breathe and I just can't. I can't do this. I can't quit smoking. I can't do it. It's making me such a bitch. I can't cope. My chest is genuinely restricted and I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack. And this is with a fucking patch on. Maybe I could have another patch? I'll google it now. Because I cannot freak out like this. It was all going so well, and now I'm a fucking failure of a freak. I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate how I am so out of control. I hate how I'm addicted. I hate myself. I hate how I'm scared of my boyfriend's reaction all the fucking time. 


All I want is a cuddle. And my chest to not be so tight. And for my breathing to be normal. And to not feel panicky. But also a hug.

I have that feeling.

I don't know if it's the cravings, or whether I'm going mad, but they say women have a 'feeling'... I have a 'feeling'.

I also REALLY want a cigarette.

STRESS.

Well I think I know what is my fucking trigger for smoking... It's not habit, as I've dealt with that just fine, it's stress, it's fucking stress... It's stress where I want to smash somebody's smug face into a brick wall over and over and over again.

The ONE fucking time I would've thought, I know, he'll think before he fucking well acts and get's “pissed off”, because, well, I don't know, because his girfriend's trying to quit fucking smoking like he's been harping on at me doing for the past goodness knows how fucking long, but know, it's all about him, him, him... He's pissed off so nothing else bloody well matters. But of course it's all sunshine and fucking pixies whilst we're at his fucking mothers, and yay, aren't we having such a good time, but as soon as we get back in the car, oh no, the world and his fucking wife are apparently out to fucking get him.

I mean, it's not just me, it's common fucking courtesy... When he was all down in the dumps about everything I bit my tongue goodness knows how many times, despite him having a go at me, and making me feel like shit, I bite my tongue, because I can appreciate that he is in a time of need and that's what LOVING FUCKING PEOPLE DO... but no, when the roles are reversed, common courtesy does not fucking exist. I can't even begin to list the times where he has not given me the benefit of the doubt... I mean to name a fucking few; when wrat-wrat died, when all the shit was happening with my parents, when I'm struggling with school-work... NEVER, have I been given the benefit of the fucking doubt. That is why I say we're not in a fucking relationship. Fuck you.

Oh sure, you're nice to me when you want to be nice... and we're the world's fucking happiest couple, when you're not nice, you're really not nice. “Nice” people don't spit at their fucking girlfriend. “Nice” people don't hurt their girlfriend.  

1 down...

Okay, 24 hours been and gone without any real tiara's or tantrum's... I'm beginning to feel really quite positive about this... The only time I really wanted a cigarette was when Ian was pissing me off, so this is good. Tomorrow is going to be the real test whilst being at work, especially if A and P are there chain-smoking away... At least I'm only setting up the marquee so minimal stress, and interaction with them if needs be...

Okay, more benefits of smoking;
I spend on average £40 a month on smoking (maybe a bit more if I'm honest)... this equates to £480 a year. With that spare cash I can either put it in my savings, as a visual of how much I'm saving by not smoking, or I can buy pretty things :) That is essentially a pair of nice shoes a month, and I do like nice shoes... Or I could use it to buy Ian a treat every month (despite being ridiculously hard and annoying to buy for)... Or I could give it to charity.
The possibilities are endless...

Secrets...

I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate secrets. Hate them. They're unnecessary, and irritating, and annoying, and just wind me up beyond belief. And if I was any more of a bitch, any time I did anything with friends I would just say "you don't need to know".... But I'm not that much of a bitch, or more I'm selfish and don't want to cause any hassle that is necessary.

Apart from that minor rant, today has been okay, and I've felt really positive and not too bad at all... At least not until he started winding me up with his secrets.

Need a nice quiet evening.

Day 1...

Okay positive day yesterday.
Hopefully positive day today...

Good things about stopping smoking; better skin, better hair, not smelling, not having Ian whinge at me, not being irritable at work (when waiting for next cigarette break), more money, better teeth, not socially isolated, not killing myself, not spending loads of money on mints, body-spray etc, better lung capacity, feel fitter, less chance of getting DVT if went back on single-hormone pill, improve energy levels (apparently!!!!!), not being worried about seeing landlord, getting life insurance policies, can actually get myself to the dentist without being ashamed, friends and family being proud of me, and I'm sure a lot more.

According to tut internet, after just 20 minutes my blood pressure, heart-beat and circulation will begin to return to normal (although this may be for cold turkey, and not using replacement therapy)... but we'll see how it goes, and see if I get some nice tingling in my fingers and toes ;)

It's been 40 minutes since I've been awake, and this isn't too bad...

The cure of cuddles

Today has started off good. He comes home, and wants naked cuddles, and something as simple as that gives me faith that things are returning to normal, and in all honesty has made me feel a world better and made me start the day with a positive frame of mind. It's the comfort of a cuddle, it may not be intense, or purposeful, or even particularly loving... but it's that comfort, and the strength it can give you, you feel in that moment like nothing else matters because you're being held, and you're safe. Call me a soppy romantic female, but at times, there's nothing better than a good cuddle.

I feel good about today.

New week. New Sophie.

Okay. Tomorrow is going to be a new week. I'm going to this quit smoking clinic, I'm going to be focused on my revision, I'm not going to let my insecurities dominate me... I'm not going to be paranoid or crappy... I'm not going to let this control me. I'm going to be happy. If I continue to feel suicidal and depressed I will go to the doctors despite being terrified. I will suffer the consequences of this. I need to put my health first. I'm fed up of being dominated by this constant feeling of apathy and sadness to the extent where I feel like I have this massive burden on my chest constantly restricting it, controlling my every thought.

I want a new me. A nice me. A positive, happy, studious, life-wanting, future-grabbing, un-calorie-caring, loving Sophie.
I can do this.

People die. People die all of the time. From unexpected, uncontrollable things. People die because they choose to protect others over themselves. People die in war, in the emergency services. I will not spend my life being controlled by my own negativity and insecurities.

I want to be a different person.