Binge Eating Disorder

I’ve had a few people ask me what is BED, so I thought I’d do a blog post about what it is and how it manifests for me.

So to start what is BED? Well, it’s binge eating disorder. It’s often seen as nit a real eating disorder as the sufferers are often overweight or obese.

Unlike those with bulimia, those of us with BED don’t tend to purge after a binge. So there’s no throwing up, there’s no trying to burn off the calories through exercise, no taking laxatives.

We just binge. Which people see and think we are greedy. But the truth is, while bingeing, we have no control. We lose ourselves in that moment and we don’t control how much we eat or what we eat. Out urge to binge overpowers us.

For me, I eat and eat until I feel sick. There have been times I’ve been sick because I’ve eaten so much, and then I’ve eaten some more.

It’s not something I choose to do. No one would actively choose to binge to the point of vomiting.

But it’s a very real and very serious mental health issue. I’m currently, at the time of writing this post, 4 days since my last binge. That may seem like a tiny amount of time. And in the grand scheme of things, it is.

But for me this is a big deal. I got to the point I was bingeing most nights, and I’ve gained a ridiculous amount of weight.

I’m now trying my best to lose the weight in a healthy way, and to recover from my eating disorder. So every day where I stay in control is a massive positive for me.

I’ve been accessing Beat eating disorder website resources and chat rooms for help and support, and I’ve self referred for CBT to try and help me with the urges and the loss of control.

So to sum up quickly, BED is an eating disorder. Eating disorders can affect anyone regardless of their size or weight. They are serious mental illnesses and need support not judgement.

Lists, lists and more lists!

I’ve found a way to help keep me calm. Lists.

It sounds such a strange thing. But when the hallucinations appear, I read my lists and they help to keep me grounded, so even if the hallucinations don’t go away, they don’t seem as bad.

So far I have lists of what the noises around my house could be, a list of positive affirmations (I’m open to more of these if anyone would like to help add to my lists!) A list of all the things I need to do before I go to bed at night, a list of things I enjoy doing so I can try each thing to keep me calm, and a list of things that make me happy.

Lists prove to be rather effective. Such a simple task to write a list, but its power to help me is immense.

I’ve still not heard off my new care coordinator but I’m hopeful I will soon then we can arrange a regular appointment. I’ll give it while Monday then get my mum to phone and find out what’s what, as the more regular appointment I have been having with the manager while waiting for my new CC to take over have really helped too.

I like knowing that whatever is on my mind I can get it off my chest at a specific time and specific day. It’s good to talk to people and I even have lists of what I need to tell them, so new hallucinations, new voices etc etc.

So for now I’ll leave you with lists! Write them, read them, add to them. List everything. Believe me, it helps.

The monster in the dark.

You know the one. Just as you’re drifting off to sleep, the Black shape that shifts and mutates in the darkness ti become something terrifying.

It’s just your imagination, you tell yourself. But what if its more than that. What if, even when you’re hiding under the covers like a child, you could feel it touching, grabbing at your legs with its long, talon like claws.

What if you could hear it breathing, feel it’s overwhelming presence all around you. What if you knew that if you looked at it, you’d see it’s grotesque grin, curving the edges of its mouth and revealing sharp teeth.

Thats what I’ve been dealing with.

Then last night, the monster appeared in my living room. Somewhere it’s never been before. It was under the desk I keep my mouse cage on.

I’m not sure how it was able to fit, as it’s huge, with wings, but fit it did. It’s body contorted into the darkness, its joyless grin peeking out at me, the sound of its breath as it breathed heavily. Watching me. Waiting.

I was terrified. But I know that monsters aren’t real. I know that.

But what if they are…

Binge eating.

I’ve recently been diagnosed with binge eating disorder. I’m on the waiting list for therapy, but in the meantime, I’ve to find support elsewhere.

I’ve contacted beat and There’s an online support group every Tuesday.
But im reaching out for support elsewhere as I’m struggling. I’ve gained a lot of weight and I’m now 19st.

I binged yesterday. To the point I felt uncomfortable. I hate myself so I eat, the more I eat, the more I hate myself. It is a vicious cycle of abusing my body and punishing myself for my perceived inadequacy.

It’s a form of self harm. Hurting my body, punishing it. My body isn’t how I expected, my body has let me down in various ways.

But I need to start looking at what’s good about my body. What my body has achieved.

It grew 3 amazing children. It gave birth to those children and I’m still alive. It keeps me alive by pumping the blood around me. It fights off infections, albeit not very well, but it tries!

My body doesn’t deserve punishment. It deserves love and respect for what it’s been through.

Seeing faces

A strange sight indeed. Seeing a face, which you know isn’t there, and is devoid of any and all features that may identify it as a specific person. It is a generic face.

You know what I mean. Eyes, nose, mouth. Kind of not quite egg shaped.

Generic. Nothing that can be used to give this person a name. Although I feel its female. I feel its gollum manifesting into something new. A new way to taunt me.

As you all know, Gollum is the main voice. The big bad bi… rhymes with itch. The one that is determined to make me hurt. The one that wants me to suffer.

It’s only been a few days. I started seeing it outside of my living room window. Smiling in at me. That’s where it stayed. Until last night.

My mum smokes. Her being my carer, it means she’s my support bubble and she was here last night. She had gone outside into the front garden for a cig, and I’d gone and sat in my chair at the door to talk to her. When it flashed up in front of me.

I was so scared I had to come inside. I wasn’t expecting it.

I’m presuming all of this is down to lack of sleep. I dont sleep well. At all. I average 3 to 4 hours a night if I’m lucky.

And I don’t get chance to nap, as I’m homeschooling 3 children in the middle of a pandemic and trying to deal with my mental health, attend various phone call appointments for my physical health, while having an sense of dread about answering the phone, and have my youngest son assessed for autism.

So as you can imagine, things are pretty hectic. Maybe that explains the face. Maybe it’s all down to the stress I’m under. Or perhaps I was right all along and there’s more to this than a simple temporary case of psychosis.

Temporary. It’s been over 2 years. I have an appointment on the 22nd woth a psych. I wonder if they’ll finally admit there’s more than a temporary issue. That I do need more support.

But, so far, nothing has helped and everyone has refused to give me a diagnosis other than “psychotic depression” but then my depression was removed and I was left with just “psychosis”

Thats it. Psychosis. But something must be causing the psychosis. Something must be making me hallucinate. Something is making it so that I hear voices. But for now, I wait. I wait, I twiddle my thumbs, I do their silly mindfulness techniques and their meditation.

I talk about it, I share my feelings, I do everything that I’m supposed to do. Yet I still have no answers and pretty much non existent professional support.

So where does that leave me? For now, it leaves me hearing voices and seeing faces, none of which are there.

Goodbye Support

I had an appointment this morning with my care coordinator and a psychologist. They’re referring me for yet more therapy, but they arent holding their breath. I was also told I only have a year left with the serviceā€¦ after that they’ll no longer support me and I have no idea how I’m expected to cope with no support. I hear voices for crying out loud.

I’ve literally no idea what I’ll do. I’ve been frantically googling services in my area to try and figure out my next steps, but all I’m getting are links to the early intervention team… who I’m currently under.

When I started with them, and they told me that they would stay involved for up to 3 years, everyone, including myself, beloved I’d get better.

But I haven’t. If anything I’ve got worse as I hear more voices than the one I started with.

3 years seemed such a long time. But now 2 thirds of that is gone and it seems like hardly any time at all. Especially given the inconsistent contact with my care coordinator.

She is going on maternity in a few weeks, so my last year will be covered by someone new. Someone I don’t know and who doesn’t know me. I’m torn as to whether this will help as they may be more useful, or if this will just make accessing the vital support even more difficult as the new CC won’t have any idea about me or how I feel.

Me, trapped inside my mind while there’s music playing, a constant stream of chatter, randomly reciting Pi to 15 decimal places and teaching the children about 3D shapes.

So somehow, while struggling through lockdowns, homeschooling 3 children, recovering from covid myself and dealing with my many physical disabilities, I have to magically get better in a matter of months.

Wish me luck.

I’m back after an absence

I’m back after a rather long absence. I’ve been dealing with a lot. Not just my mental health, but from abuse and harassment from another blogger, who accused me of calling her names. I hadn’t. I don’t know who did. But since then I’ve asked a friend of mine to create a twitter account in the same name, to try and figure out who the original tweeter was, through followers etc. So far no luck, and still the harassment continues.

It got so bad that I had an ambulance arrive at my house. This blogger had phoned the police, and told them that I was suicidal. I was not. As you guys and gals know I’ve been very open about my mental health issues. I’ve not been suicidal for a couple of years now and I have a massive support network around me.

I phoned the police after the ambulance turned up, not knowing who it was who had made this malicious call at first. I honestly thought it was my ex.

The police told me who had made the call, and where the call had come in from. They said they’d have words with her.

The problem is, this blogger knew stuff that I’ve never made public. She knew my phone number, my address etc. The only person who could have passed this information on was the person I thought was my best friend.

So not only have I been dealing with the harassment and accusations, which haven’t stopped, but I’ve been grieving the loss of a friend. Of the person I thought my friend was.

During all of this I’ve not known where to turn. I’ve had to close down my Facebook page, I’ve been wary of who I share things with, in case it causes more trouble.

But I’m back on here. I’m not going to let these people stop me from blogging. Blogging and getting my thoughts out have helped me immensely, and if another blogger thinks she’s somehow better than me because she doesn’t suffer mental health problems, then I’ve got news for them. Any mother who would phone the police on a woman and lie about her, stating that shes unsafe around her children, is not better than anyone.

Frankly it’s the lowest of the low. It was a blatant lie, and anyone who does that, for some sort of petty revenge for something they think the other person did, is disgusting. This person is supposed to be an adult.

I won’t name names as honestly, I don’t want to give them the pleasure.

But I will not be kept down.

I always get back up. Thank you to everyone who has supported me and continues to support me in my journey. I am eternally grateful for you. And if you’d like to follow me on Instagram I’m on there as Losing_everything_but_my_mind

My readers are the reason I feel these things. Thank you.

Spiral time

It feels like I’m swirling around in some kind of vortex. Being pulled further and further down.

These last few weeks have been difficult for me, despite my best efforts to stay positive.

I feel like I’ve lost control over everything in my life. Its like being a child again, having my mum taking care of me. I feel like I’m not fit to be a mother because my own mother is the one taking care of me.

And that means the voices have something to latch onto. Something to grab and twist and make me feel worse about.

It is a constant battle just to ignore what they say. To fight against the untruths that they tell me. It is exhausting.

But I can’t sleep either. Im averaging 3 hours a night. I don’t sleep, I’m in pain, the voices are particularly bad right now. Its no wonder my mood has taken a dive really.

But its not healthy. I have to try and free myself from the devastation of the vortex. I have withdrawn from social media, posting only for silly things and not really engaging with either my followers of this blogs Facebook page, or on my private page to friends and family.

I’ve become lethargic and have lost interest in caring about my appearance. Not in a vain way, but just generally being tidy. But now I’m a mess. My hair is greasy, I have spots galore. I feel unclean.

But at the same time I hate showering as I need help. Im 28. I shouldn’t have to be bathed.

I dont know how im going to turn things around yet. I just know that I need to. And I felt I had to offload to be able to take the first step to regaining control.

So I want to thank you all who read this. It means a lot to me to know that I have an amazing support network thanks to you, and hopefully I’ll able to see the good in life again pretty soon.

Finding my feet.

As you know, I’ve spent some time in the hospital, quite unwell.

Well, now its time for me to start thinking about becoming independent again and learning how to do things with my new disability added to my ever growing list.

To do that, I need to think about mobility. How I’m going to get around.

So I’ve got a mobility scooter to help me pooter along and get stuff done.

Next I need to think about hygiene. How can I keep myself clean when I can’t even get into the shower? So to help with that I have a shower seat and half step on the way to me.

I also need to think of the toilet. How can I safely use the lav? Well, im very lucky I have a downstairs toilet. But it is still difficult, so the powers that be are sending a toilet frame to go around it. Upstairs there isn’t a lot of space, so they are sending a raised toilet seat and installing a grab rail on the wall.

I’ve also got a bed handle coming to help me get in and out of bed.

Last but not least, how do i safely prepare meals? Well, i can’t stand for long periods, so i have a perching stool to help me reach the sides to prepare food and get it in and out of the oven.

My cat testing the seat to make sure its comfortable

All these things seem so simple, like no big deal. But when you’re only 28, its easy to feel like your life is over.

But I wont let this defeat me, I will hold my head high and accept the help I need. I wont be ashamed of my needs. I wont be ashamed that my body doesn’t do what it used to. This body has survived all sorts of trauma, yet it is still standing despite being broken beyond repair.

So im proud of my body. Im proud of what it has accomplished.

And I’ll keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Ah! Help! I can’t feel my toes!

These were the exact words I said to my mum a week ago.

A week ago, I had done the school run as usual. I came home after a 50 minute walk each way and I couldn’t feel my legs. I was numb from the hips down and in a great deal of pain in my back. I thought it would pass, so while I waited i phoned my mum and, mimicking Donkey from Shrek, I told her I couldn’t feel my toes.

I laughed about it. Until it didn’t go away. Then I felt damp down below and realised I had, embarrassingly, wet myself. I panicked. What should I do?

I checked with the online 111 service. They told me to phone an ambulance. So I did the not very sensible thing and got a taxi up to the emergency department at the hospital.

Upon arrival, I had to have my temperature taken before I was even allowed to enter the building. Once inside I was triaged almost immediately and sent to the A and E doctors.

They spent hours testing my legs, waiting to see if the feeling would come back, deliberating over whether I should have an MRI or not as I had had one only a week previously. I was swabbed for MRSA and Covid. The Covid swab was not nice. At all. But I was clear.

I was eventually sent for an MRI then I was admitted to the neuro ward. I sat in the bed and looked around me. The rest of the women were elderly. They looked at me with pity. I learned that the youngest of them was 71. At this point I still had no idea what was wrong with me. All I knew was that I was less able to walk than the 76 year old in the bed next to me.

I was given what they called a turkey roast. It was 2 slices of what I presume to be Bernard Matthews turkey, 3 cremated roast potatoes and some tinned carrots. It was the first thing I had been offered all day. It was now after 5 pm. I had arrived at hospital at 10.30am.

I ate. I was starving. I then asked for more pain relief. The nurse said she would sort it for me. I didn’t get any pain relief until 11pm. I was crying in agony, wearing a nappy because I couldn’t feel my legs. My back was actually hot to the touch.

They dosed me up. I slept.

The next morning I had tea and toast. The consultant came to see me. He explained that I have a very severe type of arthritis which was partially pressing against the cauda equina nerve. He told me I was lucky. That had it been fully pressing against it I’d need surgery.

I didn’t feel lucky. I’m 28 and I have arthritis so severe, I am no longer allowed to walk further than the end of my street, and even then I have to use my crutches. The worry is that I will cause my spine to erode. It has already started to.

They told me I could be discharged and go home, as long as i had someone stay with me for the next 6 weeks. My mum said she’d stay. The physiotherapy team then came to see me.

They helped arrange for a mobility scooter, a perching stool and have tried to hurry along the social services assessment so that I can have my home adapted for my needs.

If I let it, all of this news could leave me spiralling into severe depression again. 28 years old and my life will never be the same again.

But I wont let it. It is what it is. And once everything is in place, I should be able to live a fairly independent life.

I’m improving day by day. I can now feel my feet. Although my thighs are still numb. I can also tell when I need the toilet now, so i am out of nappies and just using a liner.

I can’t let this get me down. So here’s to the future. However that may look.