The Trial

I had to go food shopping today. I usually spend between 60 and 80 a week, including pet and cleaning supplies. But that doesn't include what I spend on chocolate and stuff like cereal bars which I get from a different shop, so my food bills are quite high really. But see, I make everything from first principles which is quite an expensive way of doing things. But I do that because generally when you make stuff yourself it's healthier and, importantly for me, usually lower in fat than ready cooked foods. Convenience food is cheaper. Ingredients can be expensive. And I have a thing about having a well stocked cupboard. I hate when it's empty, so when I go shopping I replace anything missing even if I'm not particularly planning on using it. I like to know that when I'm deciding what to have for dinner, I can make anything and the required ingredients will be there, ready. I also like to get everything I think I will need for the entire week. I hate having to buy food mid week. Planning.  Precision. Black. White. You know what I'm like. If I have to buy anything mid week other than milk I feel like I've failed, because I didn't plan. I realise this is completely ridiculous, but I am very set in my ways. Many people think it's crazy behaviour. Maybe it is. Maybe there's no "maybe" about it. It IS crazy. 

Actually, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Do I do this? I certainly used to. Maybe not quite, I think I did the same thing over and over and HOPED for different results, clinging to false hope that one day my method, my big distraction technique would finally ebb away some of the crippling pain I was feeling inside. It never did. Not once. So, the question begging to be answered is, why have I started all this all over again? I know full well it doesn't work, and yet it's been like a week and I'm already back in old routine, paths I had stopped treading for nearly a whole year. I found new paths. And they were good ones, happy ones, lined with flowers. 

The human brain is actually pretty interesting. You can do things over and over, so many times, that your brain maps out a little path, and this gets trodden in, until your brain almost automatically goes down it because that's what it's used to. To make a new path, to do something new and different, therefore, is difficult. Your brain has to make a new trail. Imagine going through a forest. Imagine you go through this forest everyday. After a while, you're going to make a pathway and hey, if you go through it everyday, what are you automatically going to do? You take the easy route, the path that's already there. Obviously. One day though, you might have to do things differently. It's simple science, that doing this is going to feel like, really really hard. Because you're used to that pathway. You have to start all over again, the blood flows around your brain in a new way and for a while, it feels pretty odd. After a while, if you keep doing it that way, without reverting back to the old way, the brain gets used to it, the tread gets deeper in the new path, and hey presto, you've done it! We do this in small and big ways. Simple things, like the order you put your clothes on in the morning, or the way you make breakfast. Then you move on to bigger things, learning to ride a bike, or driving. Some of these paths stay with you for life, and the need to change them never arises. Fine. But some things, they don't work. Just because your brain is used to treading that path doesn't make it the right way, or the way that is most efficient or practical. It's just what you're used to. Your process. Sometimes, then, you have to change it. Change is hard, is basically what I'm trying to say. It's actually scientifically hard to do. For everyone. Hope this is fairly well explained. See? You're not useless after all. That's just how the human brain works. 

So what happened? What changed, you might ask? Nothing. I trod out this lovely new pathway for myself and I was honestly getting used to going down it, and enjoying it. And then suddenly it just got too hard. I didn't decide to stop. I just went down the wrong path once and it seemed like an easier option so I did it a few times in a row and now the other one feels too hard. I know it's not though, because seriously, how many times have I done it? I CAN fix this. But the more you do something one way, the harder it is to do it the other way. Fact. 

Also, I have this thing. This THING. It's a curse really, but it can be a blessing if I use it in the right way. The thing is this: Do it twice, do it forever. That's all. Or, if I do it once I can do it again. And then, do it twice, do it forever. This can work in two ways: 1) It's a positive thing which is reinforced, and then anchored in to place by repeating the behaviour in question, until it becomes a habitual thing, or 2) It's a damaging behaviour that becomes a horrible and crippling habit especially if I do that thing twice in a row. It becomes a THING. Do it twice, do it forever. I either CAN do it again, or I WILL do it again. Kegan thinks it's mad. It is, I know this. And until I break that way of thinking I may never be free. Or maybe not even break it. Just make it the positive way only, the "can", not the "will". Maybe one day I will. It's not just food that I do this with. I do it with exercise as well, like if one day I do an extra five minutes, I force myself to do that again no matter how tired I am the following day, and you see how easily it becomes a thing. That's why my exercise gets more and more, because if I do it once, I feel like I have to do it again the next day. Do it twice, do it forever. 

And then if I skip one meal, or bring it back up, I feel like I have to do that again, because I did it the previous day. It quickly spirals in to binge behaviour. 

So today was a trial. I knew I was going food shopping today.  I made a careful list, with absolutely no food on it that I knew I wouldn't be absolutely sure I was actually going to eat and keep down. I promised myself that I would stick to the list and definitely would not buy a week supply of food to binge on... When I make a list I stick to it, and if it 's not on the list I just don't buy it. I make a list while I am mentally walking around the shop, and so when I get to the supermarket I know what to get from what section. Yeah, I forgot to bring the list. Disaster. I didn't know what to buy so I bought a load of crap I know I won't keep down. I wasn't ridiculous, and I didn't buy a week's supply. I did not go over budget or spend more than I usually do on food, so at least that's something. I tried very hard not to be like the lunatic I used to be in shops, buying absolutely everything. I didn't buy chocolate, I didn't buy butter, bread, cereals, the usual suspects. But certain things, I know full well I'm not planning on eating. Yeah, I feel bad about it. Please don't judge, 'cause I do that enough myself. I am disappointed in myself. But supermarkets can be overwhelming. 

It's a dangerous place for an anorexic, a supermarket. I know the calorie content of almost everything. Like everything. I learned them off, like poetry to an English teacher. Every chocolate bar, every gram of pasta, cheese, each brand of butter, each variety of sliced bread. I'm not proud of it and I know it's a massive waste of space in my head. But that's just the way it is. I still check them when I'm buying them, just in case I find a lower calorie brand, or one with less fat in it. The only time I do not check it is if I am not planning on keeping it down. Then, I don't give a fuck what's in it, as long as it's big and it's cheap. Sad, isn't it? Supermarkets used to be the cause of many panic attacks for me. I used to go in, and think that I would get fat if I breathed in the smell of baking bread or if I touched something high in fat. I have literally thrown items that I deem not to be "allowed" back on the shelves as if they were burning me. Many times. I did it the other day. Again, not proud of it. It's a well trodden pathway. 

As dangerous as I am in a supermarket as an anorexic, I am far worse as a bulimic. Rational thought goes out of the window when presented with a whole and huge market full of potential binges. I don't care about anything or anyone, I will wholly focus on how much will fit in the trolley. It must be quite something to witness. This is no word of a lie, I honestly used to buy 24 tubs of butter every single week. I spent 70 or 80 quid a week on chocolate and I didn't keep down a single gram of it. I haven't actually eaten butter for over ten years, and I highly doubt I ever will again. Do you know what's worse? I bought some this week. I had to hide it in case I got found out. The SHAME if Kegan found it. I admitted it to my mum and she nearly cried. She had to witness her daughter buying inhuman amounts of the stuff week in week out, for years on end. Knowing full well that I never kept down a single scraping of it. Not once. Might as well, while I'm here, admit that I haven't kept down a single sip of Ensure supplement drinks prescribed to me by my doctor when I was dangerously ill and at risk of collapse. Not since I was 18. 11 years and not one sip. Ever. It all came back up. I really hope the pharmacy isn't reading this, because I blatantly lied to every single one of them about it. I've told a hell of a lot of lies in the last 14 years. Compulsively. I could swear black was white and get everyone around me to believe it. It got to the stage where I basically believed it myself. I wish I was making all this up, but I'm not. Every word is true. I've done dishonest, I'm not doing it again. I have enough secrets as it is, I'm not making any more.

Honesty is hugely important for me. I like people to be bluntly honest, and tell me exactly what they think of me, my actions, my friends, my family, everything. I believe everyone should (politely) say what they think. I spent most of my life changing my personality and opinions based on what I thought they wanted them to be, and it didn't do me any favours. I completely masked every thought and feeling if it didn't fit with what I thought people wanted. And now I'm pretty fucked up, as mental health goes. In a group therapy session once, the therapist sat us all in a circle and asked us what we thought of Big Brother. It just so happened that I was at the edge of the circle, and I was asked first. Honestly, I said I thought it was a load of bollocks and that I hated it. Imagine my spreading feeling of dread as every single one of the people sitting in the circle said they loved it. The therapist then asked us if we had changed our answer based on what other people had said. I was completely aghast, and I did admit that if I had been last to be asked, I would have said I loved it. I was not alone. Almost all the girls in the circle said that either they changed their answer because of what the girl before them had said, or that they would have done if asked again. Who else does this??? Is this a human thing? Are we really that dishonest with ourselves and so readily willing to morph in to an image of what others want or expect? Apparently, we are. 

Luckily for me, there are a lot of people in my life who would not do this, and as a result I do it less than I used to. Kegan caught me doing it the other day though, changing my opinion because of what his opinion was, and he got pretty cross with me over it. Rightly so. Honesty. Hugely important for Kegan too, if there's one thing he hates more than anything else it's lying. Our relationship is built on trust and honesty and because of that we are strong, through everything. He's been amazingly supportive and understanding of the events of this week. He never once lost hope in me, and I think that's why we're so strong. He genuinely believes in me, even when I have given up hope of ever beating this. And I mean all hope... I mean so hopeless I rang my parents to come to the hospital to say goodbye at 1 in the morning. But Kegan believed in me at a time when nobody else did. There's only one other person in the world who does, and that's my mother. Angels exist, my mum and Kegan are living proof. I lost a lot of friends when this all started coming out in the open, a lot of people were not willing to sit by and watch me slowly commit suicide. I don't blame them and I don't think badly of them. Even my own sister has told me that if she was not my sister she would not have remained by my side. Fair enough, because I was a nightmare. Not everybody has the gift of empathy. You find true friendship in times of hardship. Everyone knows that. 

Empathy. Yes, I did mean 'gift' when I said it. Because it is a gift. There's a little saying I like: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift, that's why it's called the present. You have to take what you're given. Empathy simply means the ability to put yourself in the shoes of others. In doing so, you learn to feel how they are feeling and in doing so, hopefully, help them overcome it. If more healthcare professionals had it, the HSE and the Irish health system wouldn't be in such a mess. You know, I look at my (ex) psychiatrist. He's a DICK and I hate him and he hates me. He has every reason to, he's seen me in some really bad places, and I've self harmed in front of him in the past. He watched. And then sedated me. 

People like him have no business being mental health professionals. "Professionals". That means, in his case, he learned off every single symptom of every mental health illness, and then learned off the book of medications to treat the illnesses and you can see it when you talk to him, it's like he's reading a textbook. He clearly has no idea how the patients are actually feeling and it shows. Last time I went to him, he said "So. You're back" and I only was because I needed him to write a letter (which he refused to do) and when I told him that I was 9 months bulimia free, do you know what he said? "Well I don't believe you". Swear to God. When he gave me another appointment card, I tore it up as I walked out of his office. I really hope he saw. I have a friend who happens to be under his "care" as well, and she hates him too. Medication is the only answer with him. And actually, it's a load of money - making bullshit. I gave up my sleeping tablets two weeks ago and I am waaaaay better off without them. It's like a miracle. Apart from anything else those things are meant to be temporary, for 8 to 12 weeks max., yet I have been taking them for ten years. Not consistently, on and off, but it has been ten years. So you can imagine how addicted to them my body must be by now. Anyway I'm never taking them again. They make me irrational, and I am not in control of my actions for about 10 hours - about half an hour after I take them until late morning. They have hangover effects, and they block memory. I could watch an entire movie after taking them and have absolutely no idea what it was even called the next morning. It's actually quite a frightening concept, that your brain can be tricked in this way. 

I read an article a few months ago about Lyrica, another medication I'm on, it's a mood stabilizer. The article said that it actually stops your brain from forming new synapses (The pathways I explained about earlier). I'm now on a very low dose of it at this stage, but still take it nonetheless. When I read the article, I stopped taking it. A few days later I was banging my mum's front door down and walked in and she said "What's wrong" and I burst in to tears. And I mean hysterical-I-can't-breathe sobbing. For no reason. It was only when mum said to me, you didn't take your lyrica did you, that I realised... that's how dependent on medication I am. I don't like it, but the reality is I need it. I take 20 tablets every day. 

But you know what? A lot of people need medication for mental health issues, and if they keep me steady and stable and reasonably happy most of the time, then so what? It doesn't change me (except for the way the sleeping tablets make me act in the middle of the night and I've stopped taking them). So, I take Prozac. So do a lot of people. It does actually seem to do what it says on the tin. I doubt I'll have to take all these chemicals forever, and I hope not. But I will accept it if that is the case. In the same way, I have accepted anorexia as part of my life. I refuse to accept bulimia, because I know I can live without it. But anorexia will probably be something that I "manage" for my whole life. I am no fool, I know that I will always have a warped relationship with food. I am okay with this, given how bad I used to be, I think I got off pretty lightly. If I can get over this hump. I hope so. I'll report back in a few days because writing helps a lot. It's like a diary. In the meantime, I have to get through the week. I failed my trial with the shopping trip so I have to try again next week. Here's hoping. Here's to TRYING.